


May you bury me

by LadyCharity



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Infinity Gems, Mental Instability, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 88,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7881400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCharity/pseuds/LadyCharity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything that Thor does, it will never be enough.</p><p>Everything that Loki does, it is because of his brother. </p><p>In which Loki accidentally ends up as an honorary Avenger by no intention of his own, while failing to do everything in his will to hate his brother and simultaneously trying to save him.</p><p>(Post-Civil War)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally on a shareable google doc, bit a bullet and put it here to motivate me more. Hopefully this won't end up another lost discontinued fic, but considering I've had this story idea sitting around for about 1.5 years and I'm still at it, it seems that it might not go away that quickly. Enjoy!

It was like falling, except Loki hadn’t moved so much as a finger. His eyes jolted open, his breath hitched, and he could hear the blood rushing.

The first things he saw were shadows. A dull colouring of the window blinds, and his own outline against the wall. The sun was barely skimming the horizon, the waters of the harbour. Loki thought for a moment that it was almost morning, and that he had at least a night’s worth of sleep. He checked the time, only to see that it was barely past midnight, and he had forgotten that it was summer.

What a nuisance, Loki thought.

He pulled the sheets over his head. It was a feeble attempt of stopping the light before it woke him up completely. It already had woken him up completely. He threw off the sheet again. There were shadows on the ceiling. It was far too late for there to be enough light for shadows, but Loki could not fall back asleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw too much light, and he couldn’t sleep.

Loki Laufeyson. Oath-Breaker, Shape-Shifter, Trickster God, King of Realms, End-Bringer. Thwarted by bedtime.

His eyes slipped close. They were tired. He wished he could sleep. But the moment his eyes closed, he saw bright light, and it made his eyes sting. He almost could feel the warmth of it on his face, and he shivered.

His chest hurt. He coughed. He couldn’t stop coughing. He couldn’t see. It was hot. His skin hurt. Something was loud. He did not know what it is. He tried to cover his ears.

He wished he could scream. He didn’t—he did not want it to come out as a cry.

It was hot.  He couldn’t breathe.

Loki tried to move. He couldn’t. He wanted to cover his ears. He couldn’t. He thought it was someone screaming. He knew it wasn’t himself. Because when he finally opened his mouth, all that came out was a whimper.

He opened his eyes. The shadows have shifted on his ceiling. He could hear his pulse against his pillow. He turned his head, raised a hand to brush the drapes aside. The sun had moved higher up in the sky. Maybe two hours have passed and he didn’t realise.

Loki pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. They stung, still tired. When he moved his hand away, they were damp. He cursed.

He breathed heavily. He hated it when his heart races, and he wasn’t on his feet. The way it pounded against his ribs, it made him want to gag.

He dragged his hand across his eyes again, and again. His fingers were still damp each time. Forget it—he ran his hand across his forehead. There was sweat along the hairline. He brought his hands before his eyes, turned them around, clenched them into fists. They were pale—dry, a little, and calloused, a little, but unmarred. His guise still held. So he didn’t understand why his heart was racing.

He wondered, passingly, if Thor ever had an idea of how much Loki could not sleep because of this. That would have required telling Thor about his dreams though, and the thought made Loki laugh out loud.

He sat up, pulled open the blinds. The sun was brighter at this fine hour of what may be three in the morning. The sun was rising and no one was awake. The sea was awake and no one else was.

His breath fogged the glass. The sun was rising. He wished he could douse it, sometimes.

“Midgard,” he said to himself. As if he had forgotten where he had been, this whole time. Some drunken stupor, which would explain the burning inside. He let out a breath.

“Damn.”

-

“Wakanda,” Tony said, impressed. “Damn.”

He toasted his tall glass of mango juice. Natasha snorted.

“Jet lag seems to be all said and done,” she said.

“Nothing that chronic insomnia can’t fix,” said Tony. He nodded to his drink. “It’s a wonderful recommendation, your highness.”

“I see you speaking, but all I can hear is sarcasm,” said T’Challa.

“Spare me some credit,” said Tony. “We’ve been waiting for at least half an hour and this drink is the most exciting thing that has happened to me.”

T’Challa tutted. Natasha kicked Tony in the back of his knee. Tony would have an excuse to moan about the mundanity of bureaucracy if they weren’t currently sipping some version of mango lassi in the convention center open bar in Wakanda’s capital with the crown prince ergo king of the nation, along with his team of about ten armed guards that watched if either of them did so much as exhale in T’Challa’s direction.

“It’s one of the symptoms of diplomacy, Mr. Stark,” said T’Challa. “And today is surprisingly an exception. I would have recommended you both return to your hotel rooms rather than recommend you a drink if it were any other meeting.”

“They reacted much more quickly when Doctor Doom tried to blow up central Europe two months ago,” said Tony.

“Yes,” said T’Challa. “But that was when something was going to blow up.”

“Thankfully not the case today,” said Natasha. She stirred her own grapefruit juice drink. She would have preferred alcohol for the sake of waiting, but Wakanda kept their alcohol to a public minimum. “Or at least not yet.”

“Knowing HYDRA, it probably will eventually,” said Tony.

“Lucky nothing in Norway is significantly flammable,” said Natasha.

“Nor anything that HYDRA plans to take,” said T’Challa. He narrowed his eyes. “You did say you suspected they wanted to take something, didn’t you?”

“Heightened tracked HYDRA activity and suspiciously high levels of gamma rays where they’re booking their summer cruises,” said Tony. “Yeah, I’m going to assume they’re either going to take what they want there or sell something to North Korea.”

“Lucky that you found out about it so early,” said T’Challa.

“Lucky’s the right word,” said Tony. “Normally we sort of just get there just in time to make a mess of the entire thing.”

“It becomes such a mess usually because we get there in the first place,” said Natasha. “Heightened abilities and all.”

“Well, then the UN gets a word of warning,” said Tony. “If it were up to Rogers, Norway would already be on fire right now, except he’s probably still skipping around the globe with the abominable snowman soldier or whatever he calls himself.”

T’Challa took a long draught from his drink and then checked his watch. Natasha raised her eyebrows at him.

“They ought to have reached a decision by now,” said Natasha.

“I wouldn’t be so certain,” said T’Challa. “If the threat is not immediate, they may very well just put Norwegian forces in charge of the situation.”

“This is HYDRA we’re talking about,” said Natasha.

“HYDRA, in general, lacks bullet-proof metal suits,” said T’Challa.

“HYDRA, in general, has been seconds away from defeating us by seconds,” said Natasha. “I don’t know where they get their weaponry.”

“Candyland,” Tony said under his breath. “We need some sort of step ahead of them if we can keep this sustainable. Because at this rate, it looks like they’re running towards a Build-A-Bomb kit.”

“If you’re suggesting your own radioactive weapons,” said T’Challa. “That is something the panel will certainly not approve.”

“They certainly did before,” Stark said, crossing his arms.

“The Sokovia Accords have improved international relations and all people’s faith in the Avengers and their motives, and their own safety,” said T’Challa. “Unfortunately, it also means nearly two hundred cooks deciding what fire extinguisher to use in a kitchen fire.”

“Thought you were pro- Accords,” said Tony.

“I am pro-security,” said T’Challa. “I would not trust one person to decide the state of the world, but I also would not trust one hundred. This is as much of a compromise I am given.”

Tony moved to give T’Challa a hearty thump in the back, but immediately made a show of stretching luxuriously when T’Challa’s bodyguards collectively placed their hands on the handguns attached to their hips.

“What do you think it is that they’re looking for?” said T’Challa. “Gamma rays could mean a number of things.”

“Another tesseract,” said Natasha. “Another staff with an Infinity Stone in it.”

“That would be something you should contact your Thor for, shouldn’t you?” said T’Challa.

“That’s ideal,” said Natasha. “We haven’t heard from Thor since—”

She paused as she counted the days that turned into months. Tony purposely busied himself with his mango drink as if drinking it was the most complicated process. She cleared her throat.

“Ever since he had Asgardian business to deal with,” she said. She didn’t feel badly of it; she couldn’t say for sure if she was lying or not. “He hasn’t had the chance to come down to Earth.”

“Right,” said T’Challa, evidently aware of her hesitation. Tony showed a rare moment of tact and intervened.

“Point is, anything with that much radiation isn’t strictly speaking safe,” said Tony. “Even if it’s the Hulk we’re talking about.”

“Which we aren’t,” Natasha said, bending her straw between her fingers.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the room voting, by the way?” said Tony to T’Challa. “King of Wakanda and everything, UN member and golden boy  of the globe”

“I cast my vote and left,” said T’Challa.

“You’re allowed to do that?”

T’Challa jerked his head in the direction of his women warriors with a crooked smile.

“When you have the Dora Milaje at your side,” he said, “you find that you can do just about anything you’d like.”

Tony let out a low whistle.

“Does every Wakandan royal get their own Amazon women?” he said. “You don’t have an heir yet, do you?”

“Don’t answer that,” Natasha said to T’Challa.

T’Challa snorted. Tony shrugged.

“So,” he said, looking at T’Challa over the rim of his drink. “How’d you vote?”

T’Challa chuckled, shaking his head.

“Just because I find you two to be good company does not make you privy to that information,” he said. His mobile vibrated on the open bar counter. He picked it up and raised his eyebrows at the screen. “But it seems that your curiosity has perfect timing. Shall we?”

When they returned to the conference room, Natasha and Tony barely made it in four steps when Secretary Ross met them immediately at the door.

“Pack your bags, Ms. Romanoff,” he said.

Natasha raised her eyebrow.

“Is this the pink slip?” she said.

“This is a mission,” said Ross. “You’re going to Norway to intercept HYDRA.”

“Hard to believe it took you guys thirty minutes to vote to just send us to Trollville,” said Tony. “I’ll put some furs in that suit of mine.”

“It took us thirty minutes to vote to send Ms. Romanoff to Lotofen, Mr. Stark,” said Ross. “Not to vote on a fight.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows. Even Tony took a step back as if to survey the baffling landscape.

“Are you giving my suit the pink slip?” said Tony.

“We’re expecting an interception,” T’Challa said. “Not a confrontation. With luck we can prevent the latter.”

“Whatever this radioactive element that HYDRA is after is, whether or not you go in expecting a battle it’ll end with us confiscating it,” said Ross. “If we can remove it before HYDRA can reach it, they can’t get their hands on it and we can avoid wiping out an entire archipelago in the process.”

“That’s putting a lot of confidence in the hope that _we_ want it,” said Tony.

“We’re putting a lot of confidence in the knowledge that we don’t want HYDRA to have it,” said Ross. “Unless you want to try destroying something made entirely of gamma radiation on the spot and hope it isn’t anything like Little Boy.”

“You don’t want us to engage HYDRA,” Natasha said.

“We don’t want _violence_ ,” said Ross. “We have faith that you will avoid it.”

Natasha’s smile twitched. She was half tempted to ask if the UN had voted on sending her specifically rather than any of the others because they thought she wouldn’t be capable of picking a fight if she didn’t have a suit of Bionicle armor or cat ears on her helmet. She would be offended if she could take the image of Tony going unarmed to Norway for the purpose of diplomacy without snorting.

“And if it turns out to be a fight?” said Natasha.

“That’s where your companions come in,” said Ross. “Strategically positioned around Lotofen in case. But if you all head to Norway at once with your Iron Man suits and what have you, HYDRA might take that as an invitation to the party.”

“Backup,” Tony said plainly.

“Well, we don’t expect Ms. Romanoff to have to lug around an A-bomb around Norway on her own,” Ross said.

“So we have to get there surreptitiously,” said Natasha. “I guess that rules out the Stark jets.”

 “You’ll be riding with King T’Challa,” said Ross. T’Challa lifted a hand in acknowledgement. “Wakanda already has an arranged meeting with the king of Norway. The presence of his jet should not raise any alarms for HYDRA.”

“I feel usurped,” said Tony. “Honestly, I feel replaced.”

“Are we leaving Vision and Rhodey out of this?” said Natasha.

“Rhodey’s still getting used to his new legs,” said Tony. “He should sit this one out.”

“Vision will draw attention, he’s exasperatingly hard to miss.”

“And I’m sure there is some child labor law against reeling the Parker kid into this one.”

Natasha frowned.

“So it’s just us two?” said Natasha. “Can we handle this?”

“Three,” said T’Challa.

“With all due respect, your Highness,” said Natasha. “You probably shouldn’t rebuff the king of Norway.”

“He’d understand if his country was in danger of a HYDRA attack,” said T’Challa. “And with me come my Dora Milaje. HYDRA would do well not to cross them.”

Tony’s face lit up immediately. T’Challa stepped directly between Tony’s line of vision and his women warriors.

“We need to get going immediately,” said Natasha. “We won’t get to Norway for several hours and we don’t even know what it is exactly that we’re looking for.”

“Radioactive piece of Frozen merchandise,” said Tony. “I don’t know what could be so difficult.”

-

“This might be more difficult than I thought,” said Steve.

He had been in Norway for only three hours. He could have been there for longer by now if he didn’t have to rely on commercial airlines to get anywhere he needed to be for the sake of confronting enemy forces. T’Challa couldn’t constantly lend out his private jets as Steve’s ‘sugar daddy’ as Sam put it without rousing suspicion, and unfortunately ‘trying to punch bad guys in the face’ was not a legitimate qualification for priority boarding to US Airways.

“Which part, lying low without being recognized as Captain America or cracking this café’s WiFi limit?” said Sam.

“Take your pick,” said Steve.

Sam tossed his mobile on the table in frustration. Steve furtively pulled his baseball cap further down to shield his eyes.

“You know that that hat makes you look even more conspicuously American,” said Sam.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t exactly invested in incognito wigs or anything like that,” said Steve. “Are you getting any signals?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Sam, nodding to his discarded mobile. “I’m just playing hard to get with my mobile. Can’t look too desperate.”

“This is ridiculous,” said Steve. He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening in. The café was already bustling at this early hour, the line of businessmen waiting for coffee snaking the perimeter of the room. “We were finally able to track them, too.”

“Who knew the hour-long WiFi limit would be the reason for the end of the world,” Sam said.

Steve ran a tired hand over his face. He disliked believing that he had depended on Stark’s technology in the past when they were a team, but he was forced to acknowledge that being on a budget made him feel more like a discount superhero than a capable soldier. He had survived World War II with the Howling Commandos when all they had to keep them all from dying were radios and spoken code, but to be fair to himself, the Steve was in the ice by the time radioactive bombs were ever a reality.

“Let’s just find another place,” said Sam. He dragged his backpack out from underneath the table. “Do you happen to know the Norwegian word for ‘library?’”

“We have the information we need,” said Steve. “I think we should just act on it.”

Sam frowned.

“We don’t even know what information we got,” he said. “All we got were HYDRA wiretappings talking about a—a weapon of mass destruction, more or less. We don’t even know what _that_ means.”

“A heavily enhanced weapon,” said Steve. “That’s the phrase they used.”

“They could have called it Excalibur,” said Sam. “We still don’t know what they’re going to do with it.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and assume they’re going to use it,” said Steve.

Sam reached for his mobile and tried to log onto the internet again. The same blaring screen that unhelpfully reminded him that he had already used up his hour limit of free WiFi remained stubbornly inflexible.

“How many enhanced weapons are they going to make?” said Sam. “First they get their hands on Loki’s scepter—screw around with that until they made two superkids—”

“Who is on our side now, at the very least,” said Steve.

“And let’s be honest,” said Sam. “You said that Fury and SHIELD were experimenting with mass weapon invention when they had the Tesseract four years ago. Now that SHIELD took the fall—literally—who has those prototype weapons? HYDRA, probably.”

“Probably,” said Steve with a sigh. “Granted, we’re the ones with the enhanced people on our side.”

“Yeah, well, an enhanced weapon can probably explode a lot more people than an enhanced person can save,” Sam said. “Remember Saigon?”

Steve pursed his lips. He rubbed his shoulder, which still smarted from the fight that was already three months ago.

“But why on Norway?” said Sam. “What have they got against salmon?”

“Relatively peaceful country. Economically well off, human rights not appalling, public relations with other nations are steady,” said Steve. “If they want to instill order by wreaking havoc on someplace that seems to have it all together, a place as innocuous as Norway is a decent target.”

Sam bit the inside of his cheek.

“We should just have Wanda pull a Professor X on everyone until she finds any HYDRA member thinking about attacking,” said Sam. “Then we’ll know who or where the hell they are.”

“She’s not a mind reader, Sam,” said Steve. “And that’s a breach of privacy.”

“We essentially data mined HYDRA,” said Sam.

Steve let out an exasperated sigh.

“Who was it that Thor had who could see everything and everyone at once?” said Sam. “A doorman or something? He could come in handy at this moment.”

“Yeah, well, Thor isn’t talking to anyone right now,” said Steve. “So unfortunately we’re out of luck.”

Sam shook his head. He pocketed his mobile.

“Honestly,” said Sam. “I feel like he forgot us. No offence.”

Steve shrugged a shoulder tiredly, without an argument.

“His doorman can probably hear you say it anyway,” Steve said.

“What is he even _doing_ all these months?” said Sam.

Steve looked down at his own mobile that remained stubbornly offline. He turned it off.

“Thor never said,” said Steve. “I guess it’s pretty important, whatever it is. Listen, if we’re going to expect HYDRA to come around Lofoten, they’re probably not going to walk into this café to do their business.”

“Fair point,” said Sam. He downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp. “We should phone Wanda and Clint, let them know what we know.”

Steve looked out the wide windows of the café. He took in a sharp breath. He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair.

“Looks like we don’t have time for that,” he said.

“What’s going on?” Sam said. He stood from his seat immediately.

Steve pointed out the window. On the intersection outside of the café, an armored truck caused traffic, cutting past the other cars and speeding towards the mountains that outlined the town. Sam narrowed his eyes.

“Urgent delivery of shark meat, you think?” said Sam.

“Wouldn’t hurt to follow it,” said Steve, pulling on his jacket. “Just to be sure.”

The truck already disappeared from view, racing towards the hills. Sam unzipped his backpack and pulled out his armored Falcon wings.

“Think you can move fast enough, Grandpa?” said Sam.

“Think you can keep up?” said Steve.

He bolted out the door.

-

Lofoten was a rather beautiful place. It was a pity that Loki hated it so much.

He thought this as he saw the outstretch of green and white-peaked mountains, the islands melting into an archipelago, the whites sand beaches, the rich blue of the water. He breathed the crisp, clean, thin air and remembered that yes, he was here to unleash a power of Hel, more or less—right.

But Midgard was distracting.

The higher he climbed, the more he stopped, and turned around to see. The horizon wasn’t like what he saw on Asgard. Asgard was a desert of gold and cliffs, like the sun had been squeezed by a giant fist and drenched the streets and towers with a dazzling sheen that did a little more than blind people. Truthfully, it reminded him a little more of Jotunheim. More shades of blue. Something that Asgard was apparently adverse to.

He turned away.

It must be here somewhere. He could sense it. Like an itch, or a sixth sense that he couldn’t let go of. A tingling, a shiver—like a chill. He was foolish to not think twice about it when he held the sceptre in his hand, and not notice it again when the Aether festered in Jane. It was the exact same thrumming.

Loki walked faster.

Wind nearly pulled him back. He held up a hand, to block the sun from his eyes.

“Can’t you give it a rest?” he said to the too-bright sun. He seemed to do that often.

The chill grew stronger. It was not on his skin—it was summer in this side of Midgard. He must be close. He didn’t know if this was a sign of good fortune, to proceed, or if this was a warning to enemies. Tyrfing was not Mjölnir, but it was no stupider, either.

He swallowed hard. His hands shook with anticipation.

He felt the cold in his chest. Remembering smoke and heat, he didn’t know which he preferred.

The coarse grass was giving away slowly to grey rock. He wondered if these stones have seen the war, long before he could even sit up on his own. Grandfather pebbles—he laughed, picked one up, and hurled it behind him. It tumbled, down the stiff grass, the decline, the mountainside, and it didn’t stop falling by the time it disappeared from view.

It was here. He knew it. He felt it in his veins.

He walked quicker. It was thrumming. He couldn’t be imagining it. It was in the earth, in sync with the galaxy. Not unlike the sceptre, which held the Mind Gem that he didn’t even realize. Not unlike the Tesseract, which he held in his own hands for the first time when they were chained, and not unlike the Aether, whose power was so reverberating that Loki knew in the back of his mind that Thor’s plan would fail before Thor even struck it with his lightning. And to think that each and every time he was a damn fool to let it slip away from him.

He reached a clearing. The mountainside had levelled, for now. It was a perfect place to die, he supposed. And it had a nice view of the ocean.

He stepped into the clearing. There was nothing but rock—what little shrubbery reached here, it was withering. He crouched, and pressed a hand against the ground. He thought he felt spindles of ice along the spaced between the stones. It was summer, and this was no accident.

 “Ek á neinn kostr,” he said.

It almost sounded like sand trickling away. The ground might be shaking, if he stood still enough. He held his breath. One part of him waited to be triumphant, to shake his fist in the air and laugh at the Norns because he had thwarted them. The rest of him waited, and shook in the meantime.

Was this it?  

The rocks were shifting. It was barely noticeable. Like a rippling lake. He stepped farther into the clearing, holding his hand out as if the sword shall fly into his palm like Mjölnir would. If a fallen star was Thor’s birth right, then this berserker shall be Loki’s.

He wrapped his hand around the hilt. The engravings were caked with dirt and age, and the moment his hand fell on it he felt its thrum against his bones so strongly he nearly let go. He pulled it out of the earth; the hilt was cold—it seemed to bleed the warmth out of Loki’s body.

He did it. Loki let out a breath. In the presence of Tyrfing, his breath formed chilled clouds. He _did it._

 “Excuse me!”

Loki held his breath. He forgot, for a moment, that his visage was not his own—no one would recognise him as the one who more or less crashed headfirst into a Midgardian city and shoot anything at him on the spot. He stayed his hand, trying to shield Tyrfing with his body. Or maybe he completely froze altogether.

“You should get out of here,” the voice said, behind him. “This is dangerous territory. Roped off from the public.”

Loki didn’t speak, or move. He stayed still. He didn’t reveal Tyrfing—not a hilt, anything. But even a blind man could see the rocks move in Tyrfing’s presence, feel that rushing cold still in him as if he swallowed a maelstrom.

“Sir,” said the voice. “Vennligst legg igjen.”

He laughed.                                                                                                                

“Your accent is terrible,” he said.

Loki turned around to face whoever was speaking. His laughter just about faded when he saw right through the barrel of a rifle. He couldn’t recognize the hand that aimed it at him, nor the throng of other equally armed agents that spread out to surround him.

“Put down the sword,” said the HYDRA agent. “Or I’ll be butchering more than your language.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention earlier, this fic was technically published once over a year ago, then deleted, and then after Civil War I completely revamped it and am putting it up again. Quite different story from what it began as, or at least, on the Avengers side of things. Civil War sure screws some things up, hahaha. Enjoy!

Loki did not put the sword down. The agents that surrounded him did not put their weapons down, either. Tyrfing shivered in anticipation—Loki swore he heard it humming against the cold rocks, itching for a fight.

“We’ll give you three seconds to get the hell out of here,” said the agent. “Or we’ll blow your skull to pieces.”

Loki’s mind raced. What the hell did mortals know about Tyrfing? It was Asgardian legend at best, dwarf deceits at worst, and nothing regarding Midgard. And yet, these agents had their eyes hungrily set on it as if it had all the answers to their every struggle. Tyrfing must have that effect—it was the only answer Loki had left.

He looked down at the sword. The sheath was set like stone around the blade—he couldn’t unsheathe it yet. He had no concern about killing these men, and it could easily kill two birds with one stone just as well to test Tyrfing’s theory, but he didn’t know what these agents knew about Tyrfing. If they craved it so badly already, he couldn’t give them any more reason to chase after it.

Loki took in a deep breath. He slowly lowered Tyrfing to the ground, not taking his eyes off of the main agent while not loosening his grip from the sword. His other hand gripped to a fist, even though seidr did not come to his fingers and he knew it would not. He had lost his life for this damn sword—he was not the only one who lost his life for this damn sword. Like hell he was going to let a couple of armed mortals bully it out of him.

Suddenly, a sharp, guttural pain clawed at his back, knocking him to the ground. It rooted itself in his muscles until he thrashed, gasping for air that refused to leak into his lungs. He hugged the sword to his chest as best as he could, but it was like he lost control of his entire body and he couldn’t uncurl his frozen fingers from the sword even if he wanted to.

“Dammit,” said a voice. “He’s still breathing.”

“Give him another notch,” the agent said.

 Loki tried to turn his head to look over his shoulder. It was as if his muscles and bones were made of stone, impossible to move. He could only make out the weapon that incapacitated him—the electric-blue lightning that shocked him was horrifyingly familiar.

He let out a yell. He wrapped his hand around the sheath. To hell with secrecy. He was going to kill every single one of these mortals with Tyrfing or with his bare hands—

Someone screamed. To Loki’s surprise and bitter relief, it wasn’t himself.

And just as abruptly as the pain came, it stopped. Loki stumbled, gasping for air as if he had been strangled this whole time. He looked back in panic—the man who was attacking him was now sprawled on the ground, a bullet hole through his chest.

Gunshots pierced the air. Suddenly, all those rifle points that were aimed at him were aimed at the sky, and Loki barely had time to look up before what he swore was a pair of metal wings encased him.

“He’s safe, Rogers.” Not only was Loki surrounded by a pair of metal wings that rang every time bullets struck it from the outside, but he was nose to nose with a complete stranger. “Are you here yet or did you take a break on the way up here?”

“Who the hell are you?” Loki said.

“You’re _where_?” the man said, clearly speaking to anyone else other than Loki. “Hold up.”

The man adjusted the red goggles over his eyes. On the lens, Loki could see what looked like the outline of a satellite map flashing across the frame.

“Get down,” he said to Loki.

Before Loki could react, the man spread open his metal wings. What looked like needle-thin missiles shot from the tips of his wings towards the surrounding agents who were moments away from aiming their grenade launcher at—

This was impossible. This wasn’t happening. There was no logical, possible way that the supersoldier was in Norway of all places, wrestling two agents at once and throwing them in the path of the bird’s missiles.

“Are you okay?” said the stranger. When Loki only stared incredulously at Rogers, the stranger said, “English? Do you speak English?”

“Just get him to safety, Sam!” said Rogers.

Sam hoisted Loki up to his feet. Loki clung to Tyrfing, his hand still placed on the sheath, ready to release it. Sam frowned immediately.

“Hey,” he said. “What do you have there?”

“Sam!” said Rogers. “Backup!”

Before Rogers could make it further, one of the remaining agents picked up the heavy weapon and pulled the trigger. Blue cords of electricity immediately strangled Steve—he let out a shout before falling sharply on one knee, paralyzed. Sam immediately started forward, but the moment he left Loki, agents turned their rifles on him. Bullets rained down on Loki—he ducked to hide the fact that they did nothing to him.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Sam immediately swooped down on Loki, protecting him from the rainfall. “You all right? Did you get hit?”

Loki held his tongue. Sam let out a yell of frustration.

“Redwing,” said Sam. “Get your ass over to Rogers!”

“Already on it!”

Sam looked up sharply. Loki felt the air get knocked out of his lungs. He recognized that voice—he damn well _hated_ that voice.

A familiar red and gold suit of armor bolted in the air towards Rogers’ attacker, shooting beams of energy at him. The agent swung the weapon towards Rogers, who weaved and dodged before Rogers effectively beat him down to the ground with a swift punch. The moment he got back onto his feet, he looked just as bewildered as Loki felt.

“Stark?” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m working,” said Stark. “What are _you_ doing here?”

Someone was screaming for their life. Loki looked from underneath Sam’s wing and felt the blood drain from his face as he saw one agent be flipped over his head by nothing but a pair of legs.

“What’s _she_ doing here?” Sam yelled.

“On your left!” Romanoff said.

Sam immediately took his gun out of his holster and shot at the agents running towards him. Romanoff’s gaze flickered from Sam to Loki. Loki turned his face away—even with his visage, he felt wildly exposed.

“Who’s that?” Romanoff said.

“I don’t know, some local they were beating up,” said Sam. “I don’t think he knows English.”

“Get him out of here!” Romanoff said.

Sam roughly grabbed Loki by the arm. Loki fought the temptation to pull away, wildly calculating the escape route of least suspicion, and before he knew it, he was lifted off his feet.

When a man with metal wings was holding on to his arm, he would have every right to believe that he was being dragged into the air like a badly behaving Valkyrie. Instead, however, he was shuttling in the midst of heat and explosions before crashing heavily into the ground, dirt showering on him as if in an attempt to bury him alive. He let out a sharp gasp of pain.

Fire, he thought.

Fire. He was on fire. He was surrounded by fire— _heat_ —fire. It was closing in on him. It was eating his skin. Fire. It was in his lungs. Fire. I never wanted to save you.

Thor.

He forced his eyes open. There were no flames. The grenade had gone as quickly as it came. He dug his fingers into the loose dirt around him, gasping for air. Then he realized that Tyrfing was not with him.

He sat up immediately. Sam was on the other side of the clearing, his metal wings barely having had enough time to cover him before the blast could burn him. Romanoff was spitting dirt, gathering herself off the ground. Tyrfing lay in the perfect middle, unclaimed. A HYDRA agent was running towards it, hand outstretched.

“No!” Loki cried out.

It was instinctual. Or more importantly, impossible. Seidr to him was lightning and thunder to Thor. It was like gasping, or jerking, heartbeat racing. He yelled out, reached out for Tyrfing, because this was the only reason he had to give that he should be alive, and seidr shot from his fingertips.

It struck the man in the chest, blowing him back thirty feet. A sharp pain wracked Loki’s arm and he swallowed a howl. He scrambled to his feet running towards it. Before he could reach it, a hand shot out and swiped it from the ground. Loki skidded to an immediate halt, locking eyes with Rogers as he held the sword tight against his chest.

“Sam!” said Rogers. “Get the civilian out of here!”

“Keep him!” said Romanoff.

“ _What_?”

Loki turned sharply to Romanoff. She had been spitting out dirt, he realized, but she would have also been in perfect view of any seidr he had conjured. And judging by the way her gaze sharpened against him, he knew that he did not go unnoticed.

“He’s a witness!” said Romanoff. “We need to question him. Take him to T’Challa.”

Before Loki could protest, Sam stretched out his metal wings and shuttled towards Loki, pulling him off the ground. He was rushed off the mountain like an incompetent asset, and Loki could only look back and watch as the HYDRA agents surrounded Rogers en masse.

He could blast Sam down from the sky and survive the fall. He could decimate this hilltop and everyone on it, Avenger or not, and pull the sword out from anyone’s dead, cold fingers without caring to whom they belonged. He could do everything to get what he want, and in the end he couldn't bring an ounce of seidr into his hand.

-

Fifteen minutes after being removed from the scene, Loki deeply regretted not razing this archipelago to the ground for the sake of Tyrfing.

He could only sit silently in some mortal’s sleek black car, jaw set and eyes staring forward while at least seven guards watched him, equally silent and on guard. He had no qualms about tearing this car apart and making his escape to reclaim Tyrfing, but for all he knew, the supersoldier still carried it, and if he wanted it back without hurting any of them he would do well to not raise their suspicions.

And if the supersoldier no longer carried it—well, Loki had no qualms about any of the Avengers dying, only if it was under his hand.

 _I had it_ , Loki thought. He gripped his knees. _I had it, I had it in my hands, I held it, I found it, I had it…_

So why did so many Midgardians at once want it as well?

There had to have been a mistake. Unless Thanos was drafting mortals under his wing—unlikely—there was no reason why any of them should care about Tyrfing. But then again, there should be no reason why Midgardians would care about the Tesseract, or the Mind Gem in his sceptre, and up until today he saw no traces of the latter.

He could still feel the sting of that weapon in his nerves. He gritted his teeth.

The car finally came to a stop. Immediately, there was a knock at the car door. One of the guards rolled down the window. Another woman peered in, her eyes narrowed towards Loki.

“The king is here,” she said.

The guard nodded, and without saying another word rolled the window back up. The moment Loki got onto his feet, all the guards in the car had already gathered around him. They treated him like a threat, which was something of a nice change after being tossed around like a ball in the middle of an Avengers battle.

When Loki climbed out of the car, he was immediately met by a regal man whose presence could very well rival Heimdall’s silent intimidation. Unlike Heimdall, the man smiled, albeit quietly, with a nobility that hinted he was well accustomed to hiding a frown underneath.

Meanwhile, the guards who surrounded him glowered at him, their hands already tense for their weapons at Loki’s silence. Loki’s eyes flickered towards the man’s ring on his finger—old, crested, but well taken care of. Family heirloom. Throng of guards whose defence depended on tripwire actions—overprotected, important. Fashionably late—diplomacy. Midgardian royalty, perhaps? Too young for a king, though.

When he offered a modest bow, the guards eased off, and Loki let out a breath of relief.

“I apologize for being so late,” said the man. “Bureaucracy is not known for its efficiency.”

“Your highness,” Loki said, for good measure.

The king waved an easy hand.

“Good,” he said. “You can speak English. Wilson’s message implied you were essentially deaf.”

Loki did not react. The king gave a wry smile.

“Come with us,” he said. “You are safe now. I’m afraid that that isn’t a given.”

“Why?” Loki said.

The king raised his eyebrows.

“From what I understand,” he said. “You had gotten to what HYDRA wanted before anyone else. Must have come as a nasty shock to them.”

He led Loki into a hotel lobby. His guards shielded them from the public view, sharp elbows and stern faces where anyone might try to look too close. As they went from the lobby to the elevator to a suite on the seventeenth floor, some guards broke off, patrolling the area for any risks, until it was only the king, Loki, and two other guards.

“I don’t understand,” Loki said. He made his voice tremble, for the sake of belief. He had the privilege of being unassuming for the first time since childhood, where no one immediately suspected him of wrongdoing. He hated to admit to himself that he didn’t know how to go forward from this place, whether it was better to bide his time and wait or to lash out and tear the city down for Tyrfing, but his innocence was far more fragile than his guilt, and he sought to preserve that for as long as possible. “What is happening?”

“My good man,” said the king. “You may have been a victim of being in the wrong place in the wrong time, I’m afraid.”

His dark eyes watched Loki carefully. Loki looked away towards the vanity in the suite, distracting himself with an unopened box of tissues. By the way that the king’s reflection was watching him, perhaps neither of them actually believed it.

“Your highness,” one of the guards said. She put a hand to the earpiece in her ear. “The Avengers are coming presently.”

“Thank you,” said the king. “Are the others as well?”

“Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson as well, yes.”

Others? Unless Loki had forgotten the captain’s name altogether—and it was possible, as Agent Barton had only told it to him in passing back when Loki actually gave a damn about Midgard several years back—he couldn’t understand why the woman would distinguish Captain America apart from the Avengers. He took in a deep breath and willed himself to look more harried, panicked, uneasy, as if he truly was just a victim of circumstances that deserved no suspicion.

When the hotel room door swung open, Loki jumped, precisely. Now that the battle was cleared and the confusion not at all, Loki saw that there were only four of them—three of them familiar. Stark, Rogers, and Romanoff sporting bruises and burn marks but otherwise standing up straight. The other—Sam, Rogers had called him—looked sour with one eyebrow singed off but otherwise unharmed.

The sword. Loki looked down at their hands, bracing himself for the worst case scenario. When he saw Tyrfing in Rogers’ firm grip, he suddenly realized that he did not know for certain what the worst case scenario would be in a situation like this.

“Coast is clear,” said Romanoff. “Norwegian black ops finished the HYDRA business.”

“More like they cleaned up the mess we had left them by the time they got there,” Sam said.

“What matters is no one is dead,” said Rogers. “And all for a piece of a Viking artefact.”

Loki clenched his teeth. His hands itched to rip the sword right out of Rogers’ grip before leaving this godforsaken realm for once.

“I still don’t understand why you two are here,” said Stark to Rogers.

“I’d ask the same thing,” said Rogers. “I didn’t know the UN was tailing HYDRA now.”

“HYDRA has always been a concern of the UN,” said Romanoff. “Except we didn’t exactly plan to punch our way out of the situation like you two did.”

“Oh, and is it laundry day?” Sam said, flicking Stark’s Iron Man suit.

“Diplomacy doesn’t usually sound like firing missiles,” said Stark.

“We can all figure out the logistics of why we are here later,” said Romanoff. “The question is, why were you there?”

She turned straight towards Loki. Loki held his breath. She strode right towards him, her eyes not compromising holding his gaze for one moment.

“All right, let’s not make him piss his pants,” said Stark.

“Shove off,” said Romanoff.

Loki hadn’t played innocent since he was a child. By the time he had hit adolescence, everyone had assumed he was guilty immediately, so there was never any worth in trying. He would rather shove Romanoff out the window, take Tyrfing, and go back to Asgard and shove the damn sword into Thor’s face, because carving a smile on Thor was the closest thing that anyone was ever going to get, but he kept his temper down, just enough to not simmer over. Instead, he made himself tremble, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

“I don’t understand,” he said again.

“Go easy on him, Romanoff,” said Sam. “He’s probably in shock.”

“I’m not trying to attack you or bully you,” said Romanoff. “I’m trying to—sit down. Can he sit down?”

The king gestured to the armchairs by the window. Loki made a show of sinking uneasily into the upholstery.

“It’s just important for us to know,” Romanoff said slowly, “what happened when they hurt you. We want to make sure that they don’t do that to anyone again. Can you understand me?”

Loki let himself nod. Romanoff settled in the chair across from him. In the background, Rogers was examining Tyrfing with rough, untrained hands. Loki gripped the edge of his armrests.

“What’s your name?” Romanoff said.

Loki tried not to stare at Tyrfing. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to stare into Romanoff’s eyes either—who was he to say that she would not recognize him even underneath this guise?

“Baldur,” he said.

He did not know where this name came from. He did not care. He just needed that sword back.

“Baldur,” said Romanoff. She had a way of keeping her voice soft and nonthreatening. He was vaguely impressed. “I’m Natasha. I’m one of the Avengers.”

“I know,” he said, more out of spite for himself than anything else.

“Can you tell us what happened, Baldur?” Romanoff said.

In the background, Rogers handed the sword to Sam, but was intercepted by Stark immediately. Stark ran a scan over the sword with his mask. Loki closed his eyes. It was not difficult to feign distress.

“I was—on the mountain,” he said. He spoke with a light accent, to keep up appearances. “I was on the mountain and I found—I had found that sword.”

“Were you looking for that sword?” said Natasha.

Loki’s mind worked quickly. If he said yes, they would put him under suspicion. If he said no, he would no longer have any association to that sword and he would be dismissed quickly, and that sword would be gone. He braced himself.

“Yes,” he said. “I was.”

“Why were you looking for it?” she said.

Her voice was carefully measured in equal teaspoons. From the corner of Loki’s eyes, he could see Stark’s grip tighten on the sword.

“I am—I don’t know how to say it in English,” he said. He didn’t know how to say it in any language, other than ‘liar.’ “I—I find these buried things in the ground. I study them.”

“Geocaching?” said Sam.

Sam said it in such a tone that made Loki turn the gears away from it.

“I study them,” Loki said. “I give them—I study their background, what they are. I study…I study history.”

“Archaeologist?” Natasha offered.

Loki never heard of the term, but it sounded more official and having more claim to the sword than ‘geocaching.’

“Yes,” he said. “Yes—I think so. Is that the English word?”

Natasha nodded.

“Please, keep going,” she said.

“Well,” said Loki. “They attacked me.”

Natasha raised her eyebrow. Loki remained silent.

“Brevity is the soul of wit,” said Sam.

“Quiet,” said Natasha. She gestured to the sword in Stark’s hand. “Do you know what this is?”

Loki clenched his teeth. If he said too little, they might find him useless. If he said too much, they might then find him no longer useful. If he could strangle every one of them, he could get his sword but probably all for nothing if Thor discovered what he had done.

“Yes,” he said. “I was looking for it. I’ve been searching for it for years.”

“Years,” said Natasha.

“Please, I don’t understand,” Loki said. He veered his direction towards hapless civilian. His heart was racing and he swore that everyone in the room could hear it. Tyrfing was impatient, and he swore that everyone in the room could discover it. “I’ve done nothing wrong. What are you questioning me for?”

“We’re going to have to confiscate this,” Stark said.

Loki stood up immediately. Everyone in the room immediately tensed, but Loki kept his seidr exquisitely capped, even if it burned.

“What do you mean?” said Loki.

“You’d find less radiation in Chernobyl than this thing,” said Stark. “And if HYDRA wants it, it’ll probably be more disastrous.”

“That’s an ancient relic,” Loki said. “That’s—that is thousands of years old, you can’t just confiscate it for radiation, it—”

“Thousands of years old?” Rogers said sharply. He turned to Sam. “Thor needs to see this, then.”

Loki’s breath froze in his throat. He gripped his hands into fists, trying to regain his balance after Thor’s simple name made the earth crumble under his feet.

Stark suddenly let out a yelp. He dropped Tyrfing immediately—it clattered on the carpet, singeing it. Stark immediately pulled off the metallic gloves of his suit. His hands were bright red underneath, and it looked as if they were smoking.

“Stark!” said the king. “Are you all right?”

“Anyone have an ice pack?” said Stark, wincing. “Or butter?”

His hands were beet red. Loki stared horrified at Tyrfing before realizing, when he felt the seidr sizzle down and settle in his nerves, that he had done it himself.

He had done it? That was impossible. His seidr was ruined. He couldn't have. 

Fire. Heat. Burning skin. Fire. He felt nauseous.

“We need to report this,” said Romanoff. “Immediately. Your Highness, is there any way that you can keep Baldur close?”

“Excuse me?” Loki said.

“I can keep him in the Wakandan embassy in Oslo,” said T’Challa. “HYDRA should not think he would be there. Meanwhile, keep him in this room until we can arrange his departure.”

“What are you bullying this kid about, Romanoff?” said Stark. With a push of a button, his Iron Man suit dismantled. His hands looked ugly. “Look at him. He looks like you said you’re going to execute his entire family.”

Loki did not know whether to be flattered that his ruse was convincing or insulted because what Stark said held a grain of truth. In a split second he had lost control of the situation—under Avenger surveillance and without Tyrfing.

Natasha turned her gaze fully on Loki. If she could read every lie he was piecing together before her very eyes, she did not flinch at the magnitude of them.

“You know more about this sword than you’re letting on,” she said. “Don’t you, Baldur?”

Loki held his breath. If this was what it took to get closer to the sword, he was going to have to be the Avengers’ puppet. He strategically looked away. Natasha turned away.

“Well, gentlemen,” she said. “We found our upper hand.”


	3. Chapter 3

“So,” said Tony. “Where’s your friend?”

Steve paused in wrapping a bleeding wound on his forearm. He bit his lip and kept his gaze away from Tony, who did not flinch away from staring at him from across the table. His hands were bandaged. Natasha thought she could still see the bright red skin from underneath the dressing.

“He’s fine,” said Steve. “And he’s not going to hurt anyone.”

“Reassuring,” said Tony.

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but then elected to remain silent. That seemed to not be the reaction Tony was hoping for, because he roughly shoved his swivel chair away from the table and spun towards Sam instead.

“Rhodey’s fine, thanks for asking,” said Tony.

“We’re not doing this right now, Stark,” said Natasha.

Tony shrugged and continued spinning his chair in a lazy fashion, gaze fixed firmly at no one. Natasha let out a long breath.

“So,” she said. She turned to Sam and Steve. “How’d you two find out about the HYDRA thing?”

“Wiretapping,” said Sam. “Overheard them talking about an enhanced weapon, and they name dropped this town.”

“How’d you wiretap them?” said Natasha.

“My sidekick,” said Sam, sober.

“Your robot bird?” said Natasha.

“Wouldn’t be here without him,” Sam said.

“It,” said Natasha. She gestured to herself and Tony. “We tracked HYDRA’s movement. Found them heading towards Norway. Heavy saturation of gamma radiation in one area. Jumped to the conclusion that that was what they were interested in. Turns out we were spot on.”

“Gamma radiation,” Steve said.

He frowned at the sword lying on the table before them. It looked nondescript, for a lack of better words—encrusted with dirt, the etchings more clumsy than ornate, and the sheath stubbornly immobile. Natasha ran a finger down the sheath—it was so caked with rock and dirt that she swore there must have been at least an inch of sediment that covered the surface.

“Don’t just _touch_ it,” said Sam.

“It’s not actually radioactive, is it?” said Natasha.

“No, I mean—it actually does look like it’s thousands of years old,” said Sam. “You don’t just touch something that old with your bare hands.”

“I think it can handle it,” Tony said. “Do you want to know just how much energy I detected from this? Imagine if the Hulk and Vision had a baby. Artificial insemination, let’s say.”

“Let’s not,” said Steve.

“ _That_ much energy—plus _that_ much power, crammed into the most anticlimactic wet dream of a Viking Indiana Jones,” said Tony. “Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that he only carries around his hammer, I’d have thought Thor accidentally dropped it.”

Natasha wrapped her hand around the hilt. She tried to pull the sheath off. It did not budge one millimeter. She lifted it from the table and found it surprisingly light in her grip. The grooves seemed to fit perfectly into the lines of her palm.

“You could at least wear gloves,” said Sam.

“Never took you to be a history nerd, Wilson,” Natasha said.

“Thor’s not going to come down for this,” said Sam. “He didn’t show up when the country of Vietnam was basically being flooded a couple months back.”

“Maybe he didn’t know about it,” said Tony.

“Maybe he quit,” Steve said.

Tony’s bottom jaw twitched.

“No one quits being an Avenger,” said Tony.

“Retired, then,” said Steve. “He’s going to be a king, remember. And ever since Jane, maybe he realized—I don’t know, that he can’t split his time between two realms at once and still be able to do a good job.”

“Yeah, well his call dropped,” said Tony.

Steve shrugged tiredly.

“Well, we have it in our hands instead of HYDRA’s, right?” said Sam. “What are we going to do with it?”

Natasha said, “Keep it,” the same time Tony said, “Shove it up Asgard’s ass.” Unexpectedly, everyone turned sharply to face Natasha.

“You want to keep Excalibur?” said Sam.

 “We already established that Thor’s hermiting,” said Natasha. “We can’t let HYDRA get its hands on it, especially when we don’t know what it is.”

“We _don’t_ know what it is,” said Tony. “How do we know it isn’t going to blow up in our face, literally or figuratively?”

“I kind of figured you could put your genius mind into that project, Stark,” said Natasha.

“We don’t even have Bruce to team up with me on this,” said Tony. “Jesus. Look. The last time we got our hands on some crazy moon rocks, I may or may not have made Ultron.”

“The fact that you regret it means you’ve learned from it,” said Steve.

“I always knew you were someone of illogical faith, but this is almost stupid of you.”

“We have someone else besides Bruce that can help,” said Natasha. “Baldur.”

“The bunny rabbit?” said Tony. “Look, I think you could have asked him if he knew how to juggle while tightrope walking and he’d probably say yes to keep you from eating him.”

“Your average joe doesn’t go walking around looking for highly dangerous swords and not know what they’re getting themselves into,” said Natasha.

“Without gloves,” Sam said, more out of consistency than anything else.

“I don’t know about this, Nat,” said Steve. “We don’t know the guy. We don’t even know if he knows anything that’s relevant to us. He’s just an archaeologist.”

“That guy pulled an ancient sword out of the ground like it was a carrot,” said Sam. “He’s definitely not an archaeologist.”

“No, he’s not,” said Natasha.

“Then what use is he?” said Tony.

Natasha pursed her lips. She ran her hand down the sword’s scabbard.

“I think he’s an enhanced person,” she said.              

She looked around the room, silently challenging any of them to argue with her. Sam raised his eyebrows. Steve was frowning at the window in thought. Tony stepped up to the challenge.

“He’s a bit anticlimactic if that’s the case, don’t you think?” he said.

“Not everyone is a prima donna dressed in metal,” said Natasha. “Just look at your hands.”

“Are you saying he caused that?” said Tony. “I was holding a highly reactive and probably possessed Viking sword, mind you.”

“I saw him,” said Natasha. “I saw him—during the fight on the hill, he blasted a HYDRA agent off his feet without touching him. I saw him.”

“There were grenades everywhere,” said Tony. “And I can’t imagine HYDRA being smart enough to not aim at themselves.”

“You’re kidding,” said Natasha. “You’re talking as if we never met someone who could move things with her mind and read people’s thoughts.”

“She can’t read people’s thoughts,” Steve said, exasperated.

“Here’s _my_ thought,” said Tony. “If he really is enhanced, who’s to say he isn’t buddies with HYDRA? That’s where we found our Terrible Two the first time, after all.”

Natasha paused. She furrowed her eyebrows.

“They were literally trying to kill him,” she said.

“Between just the four of us, how many of us have not tried to at least maim someone in this room?”

“Maybe he’d try to get the sword back for HYDRA, if that were the case,” Sam said.

Natasha turned towards Sam, scowling.

“I thought you were on my side,” said Natasha.

“Since when did we have sides?” said Steve. “We haven’t even established if he’s actually enhanced yet.”

“I think we should worry about the potential of being a HYDRA spy first, then the magic powers later,” said Tony. “Except how are we supposed to determine whether or not he’s one of them?”

“Hug him while whispering ‘hail HYDRA’ into his ear and see what he does?” Sam said.

Tony snapped his fingers towards Sam’s direction.

“Not a bad idea,” he said.

“He hasn’t done anything to hint that he’s got any alliance with HYDRA,” said Steve. “And if Sam hadn’t gotten there when he did, they’d probably kill him. Even if he had anything to do with HYDRA before, he definitely shouldn’t be now.”

“I feel like our alliances are shuffling,” said Tony.

“We’re weighing our options, Stark,” said Natasha. “Let’s put our differences aside. UN isn’t involved anymore.”

“Exactly,” said Tony. “What if something we do ends up being the wrong decision?”

“Then we take the blame,” said Steve.

“Right, Rogers,” said Tony. “You’ve clearly mastered the art of ignoring the blood on people’s hands, mind if you let me borrow that White-Out?”

“We can at least agree that he isn’t an archaeologist, right?” Sam said.

The muscle in Steve’s jaw was twitching, but he held his tongue and turned away from Tony. Natasha rapped her fingers on the table top.

“It’s better to question him and see what we can get out of him,” said Natasha, “than to give up at least trying to be on the same page as HYDRA. The fact they were both looking for it before we knew what it was means HYDRA is ahead of us.”

“Right,” said Steve. “Although while we’re all at it, why was _he_ looking for the sword?”

“We need a damn flow chart for all the questions we’re asking about this,” said Sam.

“We can’t let him out of our sight,” said Natasha.

“That’s something that the UN has a say over,” said Tony. “We’re under them, remember? Otherwise we’re ordinary Americans putting a Norwegian under house arrest on his own soil.”

“This is important,” said Natasha. “Look at this sword. It nearly went into the wrong hands just an hour ago. If we let anyone else get a hold of it, we don’t know if they will use it for evil.”

“Evil is a strong word for something that belongs in a museum exhibition,” said Sam.

Natasha blinked, suddenly startled by her own enthusiasm. That was true—this was nothing but an old sword with potentially dangerous elements, and the UN of all organizations wouldn’t vie for destruction if they had any idea of it. But the idea of parting with the sword was suddenly unsafe, like a security blanket, or a key to a safehouse, even if she by all rights had no idea what was so special about it.

“Let’s,” she said, and then cleared her throat. She set down the sword. “Just not throw away any shots.”

“I still think we could at least try to reach Thor,” said Tony. “Grieving or not, he still would know better than any of us what this is if this is actually something from his people. And he’s our friend, isn’t he? He can’t avoid us forever.”

“We are his friends,” said Steve. “But I think that’s the problem.”

“He trying to go ultimate protector on us or something?” said Tony. “The whole ‘I care about you so I will have to push you away’ cliché?”

Steve shrugged tiredly.

“Wouldn’t hurt to at least shoot a raven up to him,” said Tony. “He can lock himself up in space forever, but that isn’t going to stop the universe from self-exploding.”

“He’s still—”

“I got you the first time, Rogers,” Tony said, “but meanwhile we’re stuck with some ancient sword and a pseudo-mutant and HYDRA could come back for us at any minute, and if you guys aren’t keen on bringing the UN into this, then you’re left to your own devices, and who out of any of us have extensive knowledge on magic?”

Steve pursed his lips. He cast a glance at Natasha, as if his gaze was essentially his way of pouring out his mind.

“Baldur,” said Steve. “He’s not our prisoner,” he added sharply when Tony opened his mouth. “He’s not under house arrest. But it’s no random act that he was on the same hill as HYDRA and us. He damn well knows that too, I’m sure.”

Tony leaned back into his seat.

“Not a great substitute,” said Tony.

-

As Loki was wont to do in a time of stress, he cursed Thor.

Sitting silently in a hotel suite with the kings’ bodyguards at the door, while Tyrfing was out of reach, Loki blamed Thor for his failure. It was Thor’s fault Loki couldn’t use his seidr right here and right now to tear this city apart and take back Tyrfing, it was Thor’s fault Loki was so bent on taking Tyrfing in the first place, it was Thor’s fault that he was here on Midgard, if it wasn’t for Thor he wouldn’t be here—

And as Loki was wont to do in a time of doubt, he centred on himself.

Sitting silently, letting his rage pass off as nervousness and confusion while the women would come and go through the rooms making sure he wasn’t about to be attacked (or attack them), Loki reassured himself that his actions were his own, his choices had nothing to do with Thor. He wanted Tyrfing out of spite, because he very well _could_ , because if he could shove it down Thanos’ throat and then up Thor’s arse he’d be equally pleased. He wasn’t using seidr because it hurt to use it, dammit, he hadn’t quite recovered and at this rate he wasn’t sure if he ever would. And he wasn’t killing Earth’s defenders because frankly, it would catch someone’s attention and Loki liked his privacy. He was selfish, he reassured himself, and he chose to be so.

But the longer he waited, caught in a war between losing Tyrfing and trying to suppress any thoughts of Thor’s reaction or hand in all of this, made his stomach churn until he swore that if he cut open his belly the acid that would spill out would eat holes through the floor.

The door opened. Loki looked up. Romanoff stepped inside; she gave Loki a warm smile. Loki expected it  to be so hearty that it could probably boil water. Instead, it actually looked vaguely genuine.

“Hi, Baldur,” she said. “How are you?”

Loki gave her a smile. She was alone—here on her own private accord or once again to wheedle information out of him?

“Well,” he said. At length, he added, “Thank you.”

Natasha settled in a seat across from Loki. Loki’s fingers twitched under the table.

“I’m sorry for all the confusion,” she said. “You must be very worn out.”

Loki shook his head. He kept his breath steady.

“Why are you keeping me here?” Loki said.

“For your safety,” Natasha said.

Loki frowned.

“Safety?” he repeated.

Then he remembered that he did not look like himself, and it made more sense.

“Those HYDRA agents that had attacked you earlier might target you again,” said Natasha. “Especially if they think you’ve got the sword they’re after.”

Loki raised his eyes to her, wishing he had his old sceptre again to make the whole ordeal more straightforward for him.

“But I don’t have it,” he said. “You do.”

Natasha took his accusatory tone as indignant self-preservation.

“We do,” she said. “Anything that HYDRA wants will be used as a weapon against innocent people.”

“There’s very little else anyone could do with a sword like that,” Loki said.

Natasha leaned forward. He clenched his teeth, maintaining her gaze.

“You know what that sword is,” Natasha said. “What do you think HYDRA would do with it?”

“What does it matter?” Loki said. He had little patience for an organization that named itself after Greek mythology. “They don’t have it anymore. If they want to sell it, they’re out of luck. And if you are so bent on keeping it away from them—”

“If they brought Tesseract-enhanced weapons to what they expected was a simple archaeological dig, I don’t think they’re going to shrug this off,” Natasha said. “And they were already willing to attack you for it when you were unarmed.”

She was watching him carefully, so she must have caught his sudden twitch of the jaw at the mention of the Tesseract. He rubbed his jaw just as a shoddy cover up.

“How did you know about the sword?” said Natasha.

“How did you?” Loki said.

He locked his jaw in a challenge. Natasha blinked, examining him as if she were a healer waiting for symptoms. He did not expect her to answer him.

“We noticed a spike in HYDRA activity around this area,” said Natasha. “Along with significant levels of radiation. We put two and two together and the UN sent us to check it out. What about you?”

“It’s a piece of Viking history,” said Loki. “What Norwegian wouldn’t know of it?”

“Not many other Norwegians seem to have gone searching for it,” said Natasha.

“Viking history legend,” Loki said firmly. “Not everyone would think to look for it.”

“Legend?” said Natasha. “From your mythology, perhaps?”

Loki hesitated. He needed Tyrfing to himself. He didn’t need to fight the Avengers for it right after wrestling it out of the earth. But if they asked Thor—well, the consequences were double-edged regardless.

“No,” he said. “Not that I know of.”

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows. Loki held her gaze.

“And what did you want it for?” said Natasha. “HYDRA wants their hands on it too, which means we can’t just give it away freely.”

“It isn’t yours to keep,” Loki said.

“Is it any more yours?” said Natasha.

“You wouldn’t need it,” said Loki. “You wouldn’t have any point in using it.”

Natasha sized him up. Loki held his breath. It had been years since he came anywhere close to her, much less the Avengers, and the Norns would have it that he would not have the privilege of an eternity avoiding them. If anyone was supposed to be mixed up with their lot while dealing with searching for Tyrfing, it should have been Thor. But, Loki reminded himself, and a bitter burn settled in his stomach, that Thor refused to leave Asgard indefinitely, so that wasn’t even a possible scenario.

“Baldur,” Natasha said. Her voice was softer. “I also wanted to ask. When we were on the hilltop—”

Loki’s heart skipped a beat. His stomach curdled.

“—I think I saw you do something that no ordinary person is capable of,” she said. “Would I be correct in saying that?”

Loki looked away. The knowledge that Romanoff had in his abilities ought to be minimal, unless Thor had blabbed to them at one point the extent of his repertoire. But if he came off as nothing but a plain mortal, they had no reason to involve him with Tyrfing. He needed access, and he was too convicted (bothered) to resort to violence.

But he didn’t have his seidr. Those moments were accidents—he had no control of them. He did not have his seidr. It hurt too much to try.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Loki said. “I can’t do anything.”

Natasha leaned in closer. If she wanted a confession, she wasn’t drilling for one. For once, he felt as if she were only asking, for curiosity’s sake.

“It’s okay,” Natasha said. “You’re not in trouble. I’m not going to hurt you for it, or arrest you, or anything.”

She sounded so genuine, she had to be lying. He had to know she was lying, except there was something about those words he would like to drink up, and let it settle in his stomach that boiled at the thought of Thor, and all that was precariously unplanned.

“You’re mistaken,” Loki said. “There’s nothing special about me.”

“You don’t have to be ashamed,” Natasha said. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I’m not scared of you.”

You should be, Loki thought savagely.

“In fact,” Natasha said. “It protected you. And it kept HYDRA from getting their hands on the sword.”

“I can’t do anything,” Loki said, more desperate than he wanted to sound. He didn’t have his seidr. How hard was it for Romanoff to just accept that? He wanted his seidr back more than she wanted to prove it.

 “But that means you may need to lie low for a while,” said Natasha, ignoring his insistences. “In case you may be in danger. I’ve talked to Stark and T’Challa; they can offer you housing in this suite and protection.”

Protection was an odd thing to offer Loki. He found that he didn’t quite want to receive it. Nevertheless, he braved a nod. 

“I don’t want HYDRA anywhere near that sword,” Loki said, for good measure. If only to inspire confidence. It was hardly false—he didn’t want anyone else near that sword except for himself. Truthfully, he didn’t understand why any mortal organization would care about Tyrfing unless they obsessed over Norse mythology—or gave a damn about Thanos. If they wanted to murder innocents, they had better luck with the Tesseract-enhanced weapons they clearly already utilized. “I’ll support you in that, Agent Romanoff.”

Natasha frowned for a millisecond. It only hit Loki then that she never properly introduced herself. His heart stopped for a moment.

 “Listen,” she said. “We both know you aren’t really an archaeologist. You want to keep the sword. I don’t want the UN to get their hands on it just yet, but Thor probably won’t come down to give us a hand, so unless we figure out how to deal with this we’ll have to hand it over.”

Loki’s core petrified into stone at Thor’s name. He wished that Romanoff didn’t have to mention him.

“If I let you have time with the sword,” said Natasha, “and tell us what exactly it is, what’s dangerous about it, what we can do to prevent anything hellish happen—”

“You’ll give it back?” Loki said.

He blurted out too soon. Natasha’s gaze grew steely. He swallowed hard. He needed this sword. This was his only hope. He needed Tyrfing.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Natasha said.

Loki hesitated. If he could just lay his hand on Tyrfing, he would drag himself straight into the Void to find Thanos even if his damaged seidr burned him alive in the process. But then something stayed his answer, and reeled back in the seidr that was already itching at his fingertips to get this over with, for the love of the Norns. These were Thor’s friends. (Thor)

His head hurt. These were Thor’s friends, and for a wild moment Loki had the unthinkable urge to say, help me.

He resisted, naturally.

“Agreed,” Loki said. His voice was caught, just slightly.

They shook hands.

“We’ll send for you,” said Natasha.

She stood from her seat and gave Loki a nod. He swore that she was giving him one last once-over. She turned away with a passing look of appraisal. It was only when she had long closed the door when he finally let out a shuddering breath.

“Agent Romanoff,” he said, under his breath. “You’re losing your touch.”

But so was he.


	4. Chapter 4

“You couldn’t have at least asked him if the sword had a name?” said Sam.

Natasha shot him a withering look. Sam scrolled through his fourth page of Google searches, yawning into a coffee mug.

“He’ll come around tonight to talk to us about this,” he said. “You can ask him all the questions you want then.”

“In case you were wondering, googling ‘magic Norwegian sword legend’ doesn’t do you any favours,” said Sam.

“I thought they would have a lot of them if anyone had to,” said Natasha.

“Oh no, there are a lot,” Sam said. “The sword of King Canute, Ulfberht swords…the thing is, if they’re being mentioned it’s because they’ve already been found.”

Steve gave the sword a sidelong glance. For an ancient relic that could possibly harness great power, it was lying on top of a conference table as if it were breakfast bagels at a business retreat. Natasha paced back and forth, stopping to stare at the sword, even bending down to pick some dirt off of it before pacing back, while Tony used his suit to run more scans of it from arm’s length. Steve kept his distance, in case it truly was the least bit radioactive.

“So he admitted that he is enhanced?” said Steve.

“Makes sense, doesn’t it?” said Tony. “Your average joe doesn’t go around looking for legends below ground level.”

He snorted to himself as if he had made a joke. Steve kept his gaze away from him.

“One of Professor X’s alumni, maybe?” said Sam.

“A bit on the dinky side if you ask me,” said Tony.

“We should keep an eye on him,” said Natasha.

“Did he nearly faint in fear when you talked to him?” said Tony.

“You know better than to underestimate people,” Natasha said.

“HYDRA might want to recruit him?” said Steve.

“He knows more than he lets on,” Natasha said. She frowned. “He knew my surname.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. Tony, however, snorted.

“You were on national TV a minimum of five times by now,” said Tony. “You held a press conference when SHIELD broke down. People signed petitions to shut us up when we kept blowing cities up before the Sokovia Accords. Then you were _at_ the Sokovia Accords. You’re not exactly hipster material.”

“Someone who doesn’t know what HYDRA is shouldn’t have any idea who I am,” said Natasha. “His face says all that it needs. He doesn’t know what the hell I’m talking about when I bring up HYDRA.”

“Because your average Hans would keep up to date on current events,” said Tony. “He looks what, thirty? He probably gets his news from Buzzfeed.”

Natasha frowned. Steve intercepted her before she could make her rounds towards the sword again.

“You okay?” he said.

“I’m fine,” she said shortly.

Steve moved as if to put a hand on her shoulder, then decided against it. It didn’t seem like Natasha to be shaken that someone knew her name; Tony had a point that none of them were low-profile, but she seemed perturbed nonetheless.

“Can we trust him, do you think?” said Steve. “HYDRA isn’t our only enemy.”

“We need someone who knows a little more than we do to figure out if we want to secure this sword or kill it with fire,” said Natasha.

“The UN—”

“I’m not about to give a potentially dangerous weapon to an organization that handles world diplomacy,” said Natasha.

Steve frowned.

“I’m not keen on the UN having control over everything either,” he said. “But they aren’t HYDRA, Natasha.”

Natasha blinked, as if she had only just perceived that Steve was in front of her, out of thin air.

“Well,” she said. “They could, for all we know. SHIELD wasn’t HYDRA either, until it was.”

“Um,” said Tony. “ _You_ signed the Sokovia Accords with the UN, or did you not?”

Natasha turned away. Steve shot a worried glance towards Sam, who shrugged from behind his laptop.

“Right,” she said. She shook her head. “Right. I signed their papers, I gotta trust them, don’t I?”

She sat down next to Sam, leaning forward as if she were engaged in Sam’s fruitless search for any historical mention of the sword. Steve turned towards the sword. There wasn’t a bit of rust on it, not even a crumb, but the blade was firmly tucked into the sheath. Steve reached out for it.

“Easy there, tiger,” said Tony. “We just went over how that’s not a good idea.”

“I’m just thinking,” Steve said. “Whatever makes this thing potentially dangerous is the blade, isn’t it?”

“Astute,” said Tony, “which brings me to my original point.”

Steve held onto the hilt. The metal felt as if it were melting into Steve’s hand, until they were connected. He suddenly jumped; he swore he saw the designs on the scabbard shift. Metallic lines that danced, but if he stared at a certain point with enough concentration he realised none of them were moving at all.

“We should wait until we get some more information from Baldur before we try anything with it,” said Natasha.

“And if it’s really just an old relic, you might just break it,” said Sam. “How old is that thing? It’s a Viking sword but it doesn’t look like it could be that old. It’s hardly green.”

“It’s not even rusted,” Steve said. He held the sword in both hands, the scabbard resting on his palm. “A bit dusty. Nothing a good polishing can’t fix.”

“I’ll call a guy,” said Tony. “Meanwhile, let’s give it some space. We don’t want to accidentally level a city with it if we accidentally give it a swing, or do some crazy shit that outsmarts us.”

“That’s not a problem,” said Steve, “Only if you’re involved—”

He stopped himself immediately. He felt as if he had suddenly started speaking tongues, and had no comprehension of what had just leapt out of his mouth. Tony looked up sharply, eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

“Excuse me?” said Tony. “What were you about to say?”

Steve stuttered, his face suddenly burning. He set the sword down, his blood coursing hotly through his veins.  He turned quickly to Tony.

“That was—I have no idea where that came from,” said Steve. “I never meant to say that.”

“Really?” said Tony. “Because it sure came out pretty easily.”

There was a vein in Tony’s jaw jumping dangerously. Steve’s pulse raced. It was miraculous enough that the two of them could be in the same room together ever since Siberia—how could he have so quickly ruined that in a matter of seconds?

 “Just for the record, I thought I made it clear that I have learned from my mistakes,” said Tony. His face was red. Steve’s heart sank heavily. “But I guess I wasn’t pitch perfect from the beginning, so I don’t make the cut.”

“Tony, wait,” said Steve. “I didn’t—”

“Mean to say that?” said Tony. “You think it. Why bother hiding it?”

Natasha’s gaze darted from Tony to Steve, her shoulders hunched as if she was ready to launch herself in between them at a moment’s notice. Sam stood up, holding out his hands as if to keep both of them at bay, except Steve was standing shell-shocked at his own words while Tony looked as if Steve repulsed him.

“Hey,” said Sam. “This isn’t how any of us work. Stark, we all know that protecting the city from our fallouts is your priority.”

“Kind of an uncalled time for personal jabs, though, don’t you think?” Tony said.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “I have no idea why—”

“Don’t play dumb, it isn’t cute,” said Tony. “You don’t say things you don’t expect unless you believe it, even if it’s a half-assed belief. Come on. Make it easy. Say I’m the problem.”

Steve hesitated. For a moment, he couldn’t be certain that he never thought it, just once. But the fact that he believed it enough to say it out loud, even for a mere second, made him feel so out of control that he felt lost standing still.

“You aren’t,” Steve said. “Tony, you aren’t.”

Tony shook his head. He dismantled his suit that he was using to take scans of the sword. It all neatly folded into the palm of his hand like origami, shrinking to an innocuous wristwatch.

“I don’t know why I said that,” Steve said, desperate. “Why I would ever say that.”

_Because it’s true, isn’t it?_ a small voice prodded at Steve’s mind. _He’s the one who caused all the problems in the team in the past. It’s his fault the UN tore them apart_.

Steve swallowed hard. It was one thing that the thought itself wasn’t unfamiliar. It was another when the voice it spoke in wasn’t unfamiliar either. His stomach sank alongside his heart, until he thought he was drowning in twelve stories of wood panelling flooring.

_You’ve worked so hard trying to protect everyone who’s at risk_ , his thoughts continued, _and your team just takes it for granted and tears it down._

 He grit his teeth and shoved the voice from his mind, as if he could drive it out with contradiction.

“I made just as many mistakes and bad calls and damage,” said Steve. “We all did. No one’s more at fault than anyone else. I—I let my defensiveness get out of hand. Nothing else.”

_Liar_ , he thought. He flinched, as if this thought was a bee sting that was outside of him, not inside, borne of him.

Tony looked none the more mollified. Still, he did not storm out of the room, but he didn’t quite look Steve in the eye the same way anymore. He silently moved to the table where Sam and Natasha worked, pulled out his own Starkpad, drawing out a three-dimensional scan of the sword in the hologram, a blue-veined twin of the weapon ten yards away.

“You should get that checked, then,” Tony said.

His voice was airy, as if he was referring to Steve’s mild case of eczema. Steve felt as if his entire core was burning away in shame. It would have been better if Tony continued to shout back, or storm out of the room, or insulted Steve offhandedly in his characteristically candid fashion. But Tony only silently turned away, zooming in on the hologram of the sword’s inscriptions over and over again as if he was actually paying attention—maybe internalizing what Steve had said about him, genuinely believing that that was how Steve saw him as a fellow Avenger, or a friend.

Steve wordlessly excused himself from the room—the restroom, if anyone asked, except no one did and even if they did no one would have believed him. The moment he walked through the door he felt even more lost, as if he had crossed through dimensions in a single step, because he never ran away from his problems, nor his mistakes, no matter how much it tempted him to, and here he was, running from his problems and his mistakes. He didn’t turn back, however.

Did I say that, he thought. Did I really say that to him?

Maybe he had thought that way sometimes—maybe in all his efforts to take responsibility and ownership, he wanted to shift the blame anywhere else, or point a finger to shed some bitterness. He wasn’t delusional enough to think that he wasn’t capable of it—but maybe he was delusional to act upon it.

He sank against a wall. He needed to talk to Tony privately, reassure him that nothing he said was true, do everything in his power to amend this hurt. He was delusional enough to think that they could work together after all the bad blood they had with each other. Bad blood, Steve recounted in dread, that he had caused when he hid the truth of Bucky’s past from Tony.

I’ll make it right, Steve thought desperately.

_Hell,_ said his thoughts. _I’m a horrible person_.

Unbeknownst to all of them, the sword began to tremble inside its scabbard.

-

When Loki received word that he would be taken to the Avengers soon, suddenly he realized that he wanted nothing to do with this. Tyrfing was what he wanted, yes, it was the reason why he was stuck in this charade in the first place. But he kept telling himself: it’s not worth it. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth any of this, turn around, just run away, it’s not worth it.

He did not want to see the Avengers. He did not want to see Tyrfing in all its decisiveness—decisive in that he had no other choice of what to do if what he suspected was true. If it was merely a sword that fell from Asgard, with magical properties and curses, and whatever the dwarves would have bothered to shackle to a bit of metal, he’d toss it back to the ground and let the mortals scramble for it for whatever purpose they wanted. But if his suspicions were true—he needed the sword in his hands immediately, and wanted nothing to do with it.

He did not want to see the Avengers. They made him think of Thor. And then his stomach would twist and he would be caught between spitting and sinking. No matter where he went, he thought bitterly, everything had to be about _Thor_.

(Help me, he thought. Help me help)

Despite the war inside of him, he did not resist going to the Avengers. No matter how much he clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt, he did not hesitate. If anything, he knew how to keep his chin up when he walked straight into his demise.

The Dora Milaje led him into one of the conference rooms of the building in which they were keeping him. The Avengers were sitting at the table, with a hologram of the sword revolving slowly on the spot in the middle, above Tyrfing lying on a stretch of white cloth like a cadaver. Loki’s heart jumped at the sight of it. If he had his seidr, he could just cast a copy of it and dash with the real sword. If only he had his seidr.

“Baldur,” said Natasha. She stood from her seat. “Thanks for joining us.”

It struck Loki that her companions looked less than pleased, except in a turn of events they didn’t seem to pay much attention or displeasure to his company. Steve sat as if he was a leper, keeping his distance and expecting everyone else to shudder away, while Tony pointedly avoided looking in the direction of Steve’s side of the room. Sam only gave Loki a brief nod before maintaining a steadily worried gaze at Steve. Natasha pointedly ignored them all.

Their concerns were none of Loki’s. The moment he spotted Tyrfing, his chest clenched.

“So,” Tony said after drawing a long breath, as if he was about to lecture. “You say you know a bit about this toothpick.”

Loki locked eyes on the slowly revolving hologram, which captured Tyrfing’s form underneath the cakes of rock and dirt coating the surface.

“We’ve done a scan of it,” Tony said, taking Loki’s lack of eye contact for curiosity. “We’re trying not to touch it as much as possible, in case we damage it.”

Loki let out a small laugh. He wished that all it would take was just a touch. Judging by the furrowing of Tony’s eyebrows, it did not go unnoticed.

“You think we made the wrong call?” said Tony.

“It isn’t a piece of treasure,” said Loki. “It’s a weapon.”

 “Does this sword have a name?” said Sam.

Loki hesitated. There was no reason to lie to the Avengers for self-preservation—they were not in league with Thanos, as far as he would assume. However, if they thought it too dangerous, they might confiscate it, refuse him ownership, and he spent too damn long chasing a speculation.

But they were the Avengers, and if anyone could scream some sense into Thor—

“Tyrfing,” said Loki. “It’s called Tyrfing.”

Sam opened his laptop to search for it immediately. Loki was suddenly overcome by the fruitlessness of his lies: if he ripped off his disguise now and vomited everything out that he suspected that the sword was an Infinity Gem, they would undoubtedly try to reach out to Thor despite his silence, even if they might gun Loki down in the process.

But he didn’t want to be doing this for Thor. He didn’t want to reveal his identity, he was comfortable in the skin of a complete stranger. He didn’t want to be doing this for Thor, he didn’t want to be doing anything for anyone other than himself, he wanted to take Tyrfing, destroy the Infinity Gem, and then skip along in life while Thanos deluded himself with the Infinity Gauntlet’s supposed invulnerability. He didn’t want—

None of that was relevant right now, he realized. He was standing awkwardly in the conference room while Sam had the answer that may deem him irrelevant at his fingertips, because if they realized Tyrfing’s ties to Asgard, they would reach out to Thor, and if Thor heard his friends’ calls for help then surely he would get off his stubborn arse to do something about it.

“Tyrfing, from Norse mythology?” said Sam.

Natasha turned sharply to Loki. Loki’s jaw tightened.

“Maybe,” he said.

“You said earlier that you didn’t know,” Natasha said.

“I don’t,” Loki said. “But it doesn’t mean it can’t be.”

He didn’t want Thor to get off his damned arse to come down to Midgard. He wanted to take Tyrfing and finish the job himself. He didn’t need Thor, whatever he planned to do with this Infinity Gem didn’t need Thor. Help him—Loki didn’t need help, nor did he help.

“What does it say?” Steve said.

“It was forged by dwarves,” said Sam. “Given to Odin’s grandson.” He wrinkled his nose. “Does Thor have a kid?”

“Isn’t Loki the one in mythology to have all the crazy children?” said Tony. “Might be a translation error.”

Loki kept his mouth shut. Midgardians, if anything, were haphazardly vibrant storytellers.

“It’s said that it would never miss a stroke, and can cut through anything,” said Sam. He let out a low whistle. “Except nowadays, sword isn’t exactly the weapon of choice. So what were you doing, looking for it?”

How much did the Avengers know about the Infinity Gems? When Thor had proposed searching for them through the Nine Realms, he did not reveal whether or not his companions were helping to cover ground on Midgard to search, or how much they knew about Thanos at all. But even if Loki did tell them of his suspicions, there was no explaining why he, an allegedly non-assuming mortal, would have anything to do with it. All was complicated by his choice of a disguise, but any chance of revealing his identity was met with solid refusal on his end. Being Baldur, he realized, was not as inconvenient as being Loki.

“It’s dangerous,” Loki said.

It must have been anticlimactic for everyone to hear. Tony gave a loud snort, to emphasise this.

“Then what were you going to do with it?” said Sam.

“I was not going to stick it in any of you, if that is what you were worrying about,” Loki said.

“We aren’t just worried about our own health, funnily enough,” said Tony.

Loki bent towards the hologram. The hologram had captured Tyrfing’s etchings accurately, but Loki cared little for the scabbard, whose carvings in old Norse runes warned impending doom than any useful instruction.

“You wouldn’t harm it if you touched it,” Loki said. “Why bother with this?”

“I’d rather not hold it,” Steve said.

Loki looked up, faintly surprised. Steve shifted in his seat, eyeing Tyrfing as if it would come to life at any moment and cut all of their heads off.

“You?” Tony said. His voice was flat. “You of all people probably could.”

Steve opened his mouth and then closed it. Loki looked back between them, realising he was the odd one out in the room who didn’t quite understand the dynamic. Remembering that it was of little concern to him, he reached out a hand to take the sword.

“You can’t do that,” Natasha said.

She moved to push his hand away. His fingertips just barely grazed the scabbard when he gave a sharp gasp, drawing his arm back quickly as if he had touched scalding iron. Natasha’s hand flew to her waist where she holstered a firearm; Sam jumped to his feet and Steve moved to push Loki out of the way. Loki could hear the whirring of Tony’s suit activating immediately.

“What was that all about?” Sam said.

“Hell,” Loki said, not listening.

His hand was still shaking beyond his control. He tried to grip it, steady it, but it only ached. His seidr, or whatever was left of its decrepit form, recoiled from the contact of what was certainly a powerful source of dark magic stirring underneath that scabbard, while the sword lay perfectly, innocently still on the table. He swallowed hard, his mind racing. Of course it was in the sword. It wouldn’t be so easy as to be on the hilt, or the scabbard, because the Norns enjoyed making things harder than necessary.

“It’s in the blade,” he said.

“What is?” said Natasha.

Loki clamped his mouth shut. Tell them, don’t tell them. Involve them, take this task on his own. Help him, help me, help him. There was too little time for all this indecisiveness—there was an Infinity Gem at hand, and it was less docile like the Tesseract and more venomous than the Aether.

Space, he thought. Space, Reality. Space, reality, mind, these were accounted for, so which one was this—?

“I don’t know,” Loki said. It was partly true. He didn’t know which Gem. “Something very powerful.”

Tony reached out to take the sword. The moment he put his hand on the scabbard to unsheathe it, Loki yelled out.

“Don’t!”

Tony jumped, dropping Tyrfing back onto the table where it clattered. Loki’s heartbeat hammered in his ears. He tried to regain his composure, sweat dotting his hairline.

“The hell was that?” said Tony.

“You can’t unsheathe it,” said Loki. “You will put everyone in danger if you do.”

“So do we _want_ this powerful voodoo that’s in the blade?” said Tony. “Or should we chuck it into the ocean and hope that second time’s the charm?”

“No,” Loki said. “Not after all the trouble I had of finding it.”

“Okay, first, the fact that you were trying to find something that apparently puts us in danger if we unsheathe it is less than comforting,” said Sam. “Second, if we leave it alone, and leave it out of HYDRA’s hands, we’ll be all right, won’t we? Just—leave it alone?”

“But what happens if we unsheathe it?” said Natasha. “How do you know?”

“It’s Tyrfing,” Loki said, as if this was the most obvious reasoning. “It’s a cursed sword.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. Sam bent over his laptop again, reading more deeply on the mythological sword on the internet. The more he read, the deeper his frown grew.

“It’s cursed to kill someone every time it’s drawn,” Sam read aloud.

There was an uneasy silence between the five of them. Steve, who had said next to nothing this entire time, looked even more nauseous. Tony stared at Loki as if waiting for him to contradict Sam. Loki, on the other hand, was grimly impressed that mortals weren’t always entirely wrong.

“So,” Sam said slowly. “We just. Don’t unsheathe it. That’s the answer, right?”

“No,” Loki said.

“Sorry, come again?”

Loki bit his lip. Perhaps Tyrfing was cursed by the Infinity Gem encrusted in its blade in the first place—that Loki couldn’t destroy it or reach it without drawing the sword, and bargaining with a scrap of bloodthirsty metal.

His heart skipped a beat. That was it.

“Listen,” said Tony. “You’ve been good help and all, but we don’t have the faintest idea who the hell you are.”

Loki dourly acknowledged that he hadn’t any idea either.

“But if you want to unleash some killing spree—”

“Like you said,” Loki said coolly. “A single sword isn’t the most efficient weapon.”

“But it’s more than just a cursed weapon, isn’t it?” said Tony. “You said there was something dangerous in the blade.”

“It’s—” Loki’s stomach turned. He didn’t know how to tell them the truth. “It’s like a power source. More than a power source.” His heart suddenly jumped and he latched onto a wild chance. He wanted this alone. He didn’t want this alone. He wanted— “It’s like the power that fuels the weapons that those agents hurt me with. It feels like that.”

“Like the Tesseract?” said Steve sharply.

“Shit,” said Tony. “Are you sure?”

Loki’s heart rammed against his chest. He didn’t know if he was going to regret sharing this part of his journey with the Avengers. He envisioned taking this journey alone—without Thor, because Thor refused to breathe freely, much less continue searching for the Infinity Gems. But if the Avengers knew, they—being Earth’s self-proclaimed mightiest heroes who let the burdens of a billion people rest on their haughty shoulders—would stop at nothing to stopper an Infinity Gem’s powers. His last run-in with them in New York City proved that well enough.

But if the Avengers knew, Thor would—and he stopped himself, because he hated the way Thor infested his thoughts, the way he couldn’t make a decision or reaction without thinking of Thor, and nearly retraced his words to dispel the Avengers’ train of thoughts, and veer them away from Thor and into his own path and plan. Only, a childish contradictory impulse demanded that he continue, because to hell if Thor is involved or not, he had made this decision for his own will and he couldn’t give a damn about what it did to Thor, even if it made his nerves singe.

“Yes,” Loki said. “Very much so.”

Tony turned to Steve. For a moment, whatever tension that had solidified between them had melted away in a second as they shared a knowing, silent glance.

“We need to tell Thor,” Tony said.

Steve looked pained. Loki held his breath.

“How do we reach him?” said Steve. “We don’t even know if he’s in Asgard. If he’s—busy.”

He said ‘busy’ as if that was synonymous to breathing. Loki felt as if he was smacked in the head with a rock. He knew that Thor was refusing all contact, but the fact that the Avengers were never involved of Thor’s whereabouts—or that Thor ever made it back to Asgard at all—was damning. Suddenly, Loki felt a surge of anger towards Thor, and he would have screamed if he had enough lung power to satisfy the storm in his chest.

“We need to think of something,” Tony said. “We need to—well, we need to confirm whether or not it is what Thor was looking for. We need an x-ray of the sword. I’ll get FRIDAY on it, but it’ll take a while to get through. We should still get Thor’s attention.”

“How are we going to do that if a flooded southeast Asian country won’t do it?” said Sam.

Loki felt his stomach harden. He didn’t want to keep listening to them prattle about Thor, and yet here he was, baiting for them to reach out to them. Help me help him, he thought, but please, let me get out of this.

A member of the Dora Milaje opened the door. She eyed each of the occupants with certain distrust.

“The king has already departed for Oslo,” she said. “But he has already made arrangements for your security at the Wakandan embassy.”

“Oslo?” Loki said.

Steve stood up and motioned Loki to follow him out of the door as the Avengers continued discussing their next steps. Loki hesitated—he couldn’t bear to be apart from Tyrfing when his ownership of it was so precarious as it was, but the Avengers were not taking it any more lightly than he. And if Thor did happen to follow their call—unlikely—he did not think he would want to be there to greet him. So he followed Steve out of the room.

He led him a stretch of the hallway before taking out his mobile. For a moment Loki’s heart jumped—he didn’t know what he feared would happen, only the worst, even if he did not know what it was. But Steve handed him the mobile instead, to his confusion.

“I’m sorry that this is all so sudden,” said Steve. “But chances are HYDRA is on the search for you—all of us, really—right now. We should make a move for it now.” He nodded to the phone. “If you want to tell your family that you’ll be gone. So they don’t have to worry.”

Loki looked down at the mobile. He debated miming an entire conversation with a non-existent family, but instead handed the mobile back.

“There will be no need,” said Loki.

Steve frowned.

“Are you sure?” said Steve.

Loki shrugged a shoulder. He then contemplated fabricating a detail, so that he wouldn’t think he was suspicious for being so conveniently alone.

“They’ve been dead for a while,” he said. “I’m on my own.”

Steve’s gaze softened. He took the mobile back from Loki. It was a lie, and yet there was some sickening relish in saying it as if it were true, because it felt terribly true. It was essentially true. It was true enough to say. But what did he of all people care about telling the truth?

“I’m sorry,” Steve said.

 “Don’t be,” Loki said. “It makes things easier for you, doesn’t it?”

My family is dead, Loki thought to himself. My family is dead—and it hadn’t necessarily happened, but it was the truth. It said the truth more than telling Steve that Thor was a shell and the king and queen of Asgard were no longer relevant. Or, better yet, that Loki was here at all.

Steve hesitated. There was some decrepit pleasure in watching Steve squirm under the weight of Loki’s supposedly tragic backstory, particularly in the way that Loki chose to part with it. It made him feel like he was faultless for it, which was something he relished when he could.

“Well,” Steve said. “We’ll take care of you. Really. I’ll make sure of that.”

Something about Steve seemed off, as if he was not inspired by his own words as much as he was bound to it. As if he was terrified of his own promise in the middle of making it, which was unlike the captain that so gallantly jumped in front of an old German man with a ready-made retort the first time Loki had attacked Midgard. And yet, Loki still sucked in Steve’s promise for care before he could scold himself for wanting it. His own desperation disgusted him, but not enough to refuse Steve’s offer.

“I appreciate it,” Loki said.

Steve turned back to return to the Avengers. Loki lingered for a moment before darting to the nearest restroom, catching his reflection in the mirror, and reminding himself that he looked nothing like himself. It didn’t matter whether it relieved or disappointed him.

My family is dead, Loki reminded himself. It wasn’t necessarily true, but goddamn, did it feel good to say.

-

You’re trying to kill yourself, aren’t you, Loki had asked Thor.

Maybe he should have asked it with a touch more concern in his tone, rather than sharp accusation, as if he was bitter at Thor for usurping his position of being the emotionally wrought half of the pair. Maybe he actually was. It wasn’t easy to imagine Thor anything but angry or celebratory, both of them on the more intense, fiery end of the spectrum that Loki had learnt to dealt with for the past thousand years. It wasn’t easy to imagine Thor needing help.

Maybe he should have been more tactful, which between the both of them was usually Loki’s expertise more so than Thor’s. Maybe he should have led with _I’m worried about you_ or _I’ve noticed that you_ except they would all be lies because Loki would swear it to be so if anyone asked him now. But that was irrelevant, because no one ever asked, because he never said it. He said, after cornering Thor in the midst of tense, tense silence, _You’re trying to kill yourself, aren’t you_.

And when Thor replied, maybe Loki should have been more insightful, intuitive. He was the more intuitive out of the two of them, and yet all things fell apart with Thor, as if Loki’s entire identity and mindset had become undone by Thor alone. It seemed entirely unfair that Thor could hold so much power over Loki, when the one who made Thor’s world fall apart the most appeared to be none other than Jane Foster.

_You’re a fool_ , Loki said, or at least, he thought he said it, because he refused to remember this moment as much as his memory refused to forget it with such intense accuracy he could still feel the twist in his chest. _You deluded idiot, you fool, you fool—_

are everything that Loki never had the will to be

— _You’re just going to rot, is that what you want?_

And when Thor replied to that, there was a sudden shortness of breath, when Loki realised that this wasn’t something he imagined, and what Thor had said wasn’t something he had dreamt in some secret nightmare he would never confess. Hearing something in his own head, over and over again until it was as easy as breathing, was not quite the same as hearing it from Thor’s mouth.

You’re trying to kill yourself, aren’t you, Loki asked Thor, and then he swore he would stop loving Thor, without realising how easy (hard) it would be.


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s not going to work,” said Steve.

“Wasn’t actually banking on it,” Tony said.

Still, his jaw twitched at Steve’s mollifying, as-a-matter-of-fact tone that magically transformed him into a kindergarten teacher.

“I wouldn’t say it wouldn’t work, per se,” said Natasha. “It’s that we don’t have an astrophysicist at hand who can figure out if anything’s happening out there that may concern Thor.”

“Much less have a really big telescope,” Sam said with a sigh.

The plane ride to Oslo was riddled with debates, arguments, theories, half-baked conclusions and a cycle of uncertainty. T’Challa had sent one of his private planes for them, assuring them in some casual logic that if HYDRA tried to attack them en route then at least there would be no other casualties on the plane, which funnily enough Tony found comforting. Baldur sat in the back, lips sealed indefinitely, and if he hadn’t tangled himself in the complimentary earbuds Tony would have doubted he heard a single thing any of them said, except for the fact that it did not escape Tony that Baldur’s gaze was anything but vacant.

“There’s Dr Foster,” said Tony.

“Who has been off the map for a while,” said Steve. “You said so yourself. Don’t you have her number or something?”

“Pepper does. Did,” said Tony. “If Thor was so in love with this woman, he’d come drop a call, at least.”

Natasha snorted.

“Thor went off saying something about Infinity Stones, but he never said what we should do with them if we happened to find one,” Tony said. “He said he’d try to find out what else was coming, what it all meant, but what the hell does _that_ mean?”

Natasha cast a sidelong glance at Baldur, who was staring intently at his reflection in the plastic window while the Avengers spoke in hushed tones.

“You think he knows?” said Steve.

“I think he has more definite plans on what to do with it than we do,” Natasha said, her lips barely moving.

“Well, the sword is checked under our luggage, so,” said Sam.

“If it’s like Thor’s Infinity Stones,” said Natasha, “or like the Tesseract, then the answer is—give it back to him. It’s going to end up in Asgard whether we try to keep it or not, considering our track record on these things.”

“Or become a humanoid artificial intelligence, one of the two,” said Tony.

“Vision,” Steve said suddenly. “If it’s an Infinity Stone, maybe Vision would be able to tell.”

“Because his forehead gives mating calls to fellow stones, I imagine,” said Tony.

“Because he’s the closest thing we’ve got to Thor at this moment,” said Steve.

Tony clenched his teeth. It was one thing to have imprinted on Thor after popping out of the cybernet womb, but even with the Mind Gem for a mind Vision couldn’t possibly read others’ minds.

“And what about our stowaway?” said Tony. He jerked his head towards Baldur’s direction. “What are we doing with him?”

“He knows more about Tyrfing than any of us,” said Natasha.

“Do we even know what he wants it for?” said Tony. “Listen, even if he’s against HYDRA, if he’s planning to make weapons of mass destruction with this sword, he’s a no go. Just because he’s the enemy of our enemy doesn’t make him our friend.”

“I want to destroy it,” said Baldur.

Tony turned in his seat to face Baldur. Baldur was still staring out the window, where the clouds blanketed the sky below them. He barely spoke above the whirring engines of the plane.

“You’re pretty protective of something you want to scrap,” said Tony.

“Why do you want to destroy it?” said Steve.

“Don’t you?” said Baldur.

 “For all we know, we need the Infinity Stones,” said Tony. “Thor had mentioned something about the Tesseract and something about an Aether—”

“Negative examples,” said Sam.

“Then there’s Vision,” said Tony. “Who is apparently more worthy than any of us, for a computer.”

“Who is Vision?” said Baldur.

“Magenta man,” said Sam. “He has a gold cape and floats.”

Baldur wrinkled his nose.

“He has one of the Infinity Stones in his head,” Steve said. “The Mind Gem.”

“Should we be telling him all of this?” said Tony.

“We just airlifted him out of his home,” said Steve. “He deserves to know something.”

Tony would have lashed out at Steve for misplaced trust, a heart too naïve to set boundaries, but considering how little he realised that Steve thought of Tony, it wasn’t necessarily true as much as selective. So he kept his mouth shut instead, and leaned back in his seat as if to step away.

“Are you going to destroy it?” said Baldur.

“If you try suggesting that I’m sure Wanda will kick your ass,” said Natasha.

“Good came out of it, for something that came out of Loki’s sceptre,” said Steve. “So maybe some good can come out of this, if we don’t have the means to destroy it, considering Thor is gone.”

Baldur pressed his lips together in a thin line. He shifted to the aisle seat next to him, to have a better view of them.

“You took it?” Baldur said.

“Took what?” said Steve.

Baldur rested his interlaced fingers against his lips in thought.

“Its form determines its nature,” Baldur said.

“Excuse me?” said Tony.

“The sword,” said Baldur. “Without that stone, it would just be a regular, powerful sword. And the stone—”

Sam held up a hand, his brows furrowed in thought.

“Hold on,” said Sam. “Do you know what Infinity Stones are, already?”

Baldur looked up to Sam. There was a moment of hesitation, and Tony immediately felt the tension in the room shift at this sudden suspicion.

“I know that what is in Tyrfing is dangerous with dark powers,” said Baldur. “I know that I’ve been hit with something that feels similar to it, which means there are more of its kind. I don’t know that they have a collective name, though.”

“Well, apparently they do,” said Tony. “There’s at least four of them that we know about, and Thor said it’s a sign of something coming.”

Baldur hummed.

“You’ve not heard more from him about this,” said Baldur. “He hasn’t said anything else?”

Tony gave a short laugh. Thor had gone beam me up, scotty and then never gave so much as a phone call, which wasn’t unlike how Bruce had hijacked a jet and flew it towards the second star on the right and straight on till morning, or wherever else he deemed far away enough from the rest of the Avengers, or at least from Romanoff.

“Why would he, right?” said Tony. “Busy with ruling a planet. Or couldn’t be bothered.”

“He’s probably busy,” Steve said firmly. “He can’t take care of two realms at once.”

“Or he thinks we can handle ourselves,” Sam said. “Which is our responsibility, technically. He’s doing it for extra credit.”

“So about the stones,” said Baldur.

“He’s always there when we need him most,” Steve said, placating. “Or when he thinks we could use him. He’s not a genie, we can’t summon him when we want him and expect him to show up to our will.”

“Speak for yourself, I could have used his lightning bolt when that shit went down in Saigon,” Sam said, wincing.

Tony pinched his nose bridge. He would rather shoot himself in the rear with his Iron Man glove than say that he was pining, of all things, after Thor, and yet he must have had some sort of hope or expectation if he felt Thor’s gaping absence from their team, if there was even a team left to call themselves. Steve and his clan effectively broke off from the Avengers, regardless of whatever guise of a truce they had now because of an ancient sword, and maybe, Tony thought, _maybe_ if Thor came around he could be that neutral common ground that could bring everyone back together, even if they had to fake it.

“If this is so important to Thor—as you say,” Baldur said. He wiped his brow. “Then perhaps being more vocal about the fact you have it will catch his attention.”

“I suppose we could make a banner about it and dangle it on the tail of this plane,” said Tony. “We’ll catch NASA’s attention for sure.”

“And HYDRA’s,” Steve said.

“I’m painfully aware,” said Tony.

“Thor’s doorman supposedly can hear us right now,” said Natasha. “If he was going to come, he’d already come.”

“We’re in a moving plane,” said Sam.

“That wouldn’t actually stop Thor,” said Natasha.

Baldur scoffed.

“Well, whatever we need to do with it,” Sam said. “It’s in the sword. The evil, soul-sucking sword that is supposedly going to kill someone every time we take a look at it. So, we should start from there, whether Thor’s around or not, and figure out what we need to do if the thing in question is under the scabbard.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Baldur. “We take it out.”

“And I suppose you’re going to suggest some virgin sacrifice to go along with it?” said Tony. “We aren’t going to have casualties. We already have a ledger trying to save this damn planet.”

Natasha shot Tony an appraising look. Tony shrugged it off easily.

“We established that the sword supposedly can cut through anything, right?” said Sam. “If it cuts itself out of its scabbard, does it count as being unsheathed?”

“I feel like that scabbard would look more like metal spaghetti at this point if that was the case,” said Tony.

“You think it can cut through Wakandan metal?” said Sam.

“You think Wakandan metal could possibly destroy an Infinity Gem?” said Steve. “Didn’t Thor say once he tried shocking the Aether with his lightning and that didn’t even do anything?”

“Well, Thor isn’t coming around, is he?” said Tony. “So we can’t really take his advice, considering he isn’t here, what’s the damn point?”

Steve recoiled. Sam shot Tony a withering look.

“Aren’t you the one who kept insisting we reach out to Thor?” Sam said.

Tony stopped short. In that moment he couldn’t remember why he would have ever suggested a futile thing as that, when Thor had discarded them. Thor hadn’t bothered checking on them when Steve and his team blew up Lagos, or when the Avengers team as a whole fractured into factions, or when everything else that followed was a pile of splintered chaos around the world that they could hardly keep together.

“There’s no point,” Tony said. “You all were saying it too, so don’t start switching teams now, just because you don’t want to be on the same plane as me.”

“You don’t have enemies here, Stark,” Baldur said.

Tony raised his eyebrows at Baldur, who spoke with not so much certainty as much as incredulity. All of a sudden Tony wanted to lash out at Baldur for saying too much about what he knew little of, even though what Baldur had said was innocuous and plain. Tony had no enemies here—but it felt very little like he had any friends, either. It made this plane feel almost empty, even when all eyes were on him.

“Where’s Tyrfing?” Baldur asked.

The shift in mood was more upsetting than turbulence. It took a good pause before Natasha answered him.

“Overhead compartments,” she said. “Better safe than sorry.”

“We should keep it away from everyone,” Baldur said. “To be sure.”

Tony pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes. He wanted a drink, but T’Challa’s flight attendants didn’t stock alcohol in this plane, because their idea of long-distance travel was a form of torture.

“If it is dangerous because of so little as being drawn out of its scabbard, we can’t just leave it alone,” said Steve.

“Lock it up in some cell, or chain it if you must,” said Baldur. “But for goodness’ sake, don’t go near it any more than you need to.”

Tony laughed. He didn’t know why. For some reason he felt a jolt of déjà vu.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Tony. “We’re this dramatic with or without some demon-possessed sword in our presence.”

A muscle twitched in Baldur’s jaw, but he crossed his arms and sank back into his seat. The pilot’s voice soon interrupted them over the intercom, informing them to prepare for landing. As everyone dutifully readjusted their seatbelts, Tony could hear Natasha sigh over the humming engine.

“He’s not wrong about that,” she said.

-

“An option,” said T’Challa, “is that we take it to Wakanda.”

Inconveniently, it turned out that diplomatic foreign embassies in Norway did not come with a secured cell of their own where they could stow away Tyrfing under lock and key. Considering that Loki had grown up sneaking into Odin’s treasure room dedicated to stolen relics, this was yet another culture shock in a sea of incomprehensibility. Tyrfing currently sat on a desk in T’Challa’s office, which Loki silently deemed the worst possible place it could be, apart from Thanos’ possession.

“Why Wakanda?” said Tony.

“HYDRA would have much trouble trying to take anything from there,” said T’Challa. “Much less finding Wakanda on a map, as far as I can tell about them.”

Steve bit his lip. Loki gave a sidelong glance at him, trying to unthread the silence that seemed to plague everyone else, sewing up their lips from whatever past bad blood, history, secrets that coloured them since the last time he had gone toe to toe with them. Catching his own reflection against the window of T’Challa’s office, he remembered with a jolt that his lips were just as sewed up and muzzled as the rest of them.

“Would it be safer in Wakanda than in Norway?” said Natasha.

“We don’t want to keep it safe,” said Loki. “That’s not the point.”

T’Challa raised his eyebrows.

“I understand that you intend on destroying it,” T’Challa said. “I also understand that you have yet to settle on how you will try. Until then, you’d want to keep it safe from anyone who might interrupt.”

Loki felt his eyebrow twitch. If he had the sword in his own hand, without the Avengers breathing down his neck clamouring for some shred of responsibility, he would have already started the process, and he wouldn’t have to worry about how many people Tyrfing killed when he tried to unsheathe it. And yet, he had handed the ropes of this quest to them himself, for some desperate, useless hope that this could stir Thor when all of them knew in their own right that it would not. Teamwork was a stupid idea, but evidently Thor rubbed off on him in at least this way.

“They say that this sword could cut through anything,” said Natasha. “You think vibranium can stand up to it?”

“If it can’t, then the captain may need a new shield,” said T’Challa.

Tony and Steve deliberately kept their gazes away from each other. Loki basked in the tension that had next to nothing to do with him.

 “We have a cursed sword in our hands, but we want to destroy the gem in it,” said T’Challa. “Is it the gem that curses it?”

“That’s what he says,” said Sam, jerking his head towards Loki’s direction.

“There is no specification that this curse must be immediate,” said T’Challa. “That is, if we remove the gem from the sword, then the catch of killing someone every time it’s drawn may very well be broken.”

Loki instinctively gave a snort. T’Challa discussed the Infinity Stone as if it was nothing but a shiny, murderously insentient rock. Evidently, by the way that T’Challa turned to Loki, it did not go unnoticed.

“Not what you had in mind?” said T’Challa.

“If it is as dangerous as we think,” said Loki. “Then Tyrfing wouldn’t be outsmarted by something as simple as timing.”

Sam wrinkled his nose. T’Challa reached down and picked up Tyrfing by the hilt. Loki’s heart skipped a beat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he said. “Your highness.”

“It’s harmless if it’s sheathed, isn’t it?” said T’Challa.

Loki hesitated. If he gave away too much, he would be far from innocuous, and he was precariously unsuspicious as it was already. But there was no mistake—Tyrfing stung him the moment he sensed the Stone in its blade, and it changed the winds like a turbulent storm at sea just by sitting still in an airplane overhead bin.

T’Challa turned the sword over in his hand. He tutted softly.

“So where would this stone be?” T’Challa said. “Right at the tip?”

“We can do an x-ray scan of it,” Tony said. “See if FRIDAY can get a read of it.”

T’Challa set it down on a table and stepped back, gesturing to Tony that he was welcome to do whatever he pleased. Tony pulled out a small tablet, holding it over the sword as sheets of electric blue light shone from the machine and wrapped around the sword like ethereal gauze.

“What power do these Stones have?” said T’Challa.

“Well, that Mind Gem opened and closed a portal of aliens into New York,” said Natasha. “Not to mention it gave the Maximoff twins superhuman powers.”

“The Tesseract _made_ the portal for aliens,” Tony said.

“And last we heard from Thor, the Aether had the power to destroy the universe,” said Sam. “So yeah, probably devastating, right?”

Loki’s jaw twitched. It was difficult to proceed with anything he had in mind when Thor kept interrupting his every moment, whether in subject or in spirit. It was then that he realized that Sam was looking straight at him at his rhetorical question.

“If it is so devastating, I don’t see why it would have hid so undisturbed in northern Norway for so long,” said T’Challa.

“The Tesseract kind of popped by to say hello to Earth too without any reason to be there,” said Tony. “We’ve already established that Viking demigods have no sense of keeping track of their possessions.”

“And we have no sense of returning them,” Loki said, purely out of spite.

“Do you think it hasn’t been here very long, then?” T’Challa said.

“Ruins take entire archaeological teams to dig out old, several thousand-year-old relics,” said Sam. “Baldur here didn’t even get his hands dirty.”

Loki felt the jab of suspicious accusation right on his side, even though he avoided Sam’s gaze.

“It _looks_ like a dinosaur fossil,” said Natasha. “Look at all the dirt encrusting it.”

“Maybe it’s not dirt from around here,” said Tony. He scratched a bit off with his fingernail, brushing it onto a piece of paper.

“That’s a treaty agreement,” T’Challa said.

“That’s what digital copies are for,” said Tony, holding up the piece of paper to study the crumbs of dirt. “Maybe if we analyse it we can figure out where it came from.”

“How is that going to help us destroy it?” said Loki.

“Excuse me for trying to broaden my knowledge,” said Tony.

His tablet chimed. He tossed the paper aside without a second thought and held out the tablet on his open palm. A hologram appeared over the screen, small and palm-sized, until Tony set it on T’Challa’s desk and maximized the image. It was a rudimentary model of the sword underneath the scabbard, with dull etchings along the blade and straight, razor edges.

“It can’t get everything,” said Tony. “It’s not using echolocation or anything, so unless we get a beluga whale to map everything out for us—”

Loki suddenly gasped. Near the tip of the blade, a protruding bump was wedged right against the flat edge. It was barely noticeable, like a small imperfection in an otherwise flawless weapon, and yet the bump was perfectly oval, and precisely where Loki felt the jolt of unwelcomed magic when his fingers grazed the scabbard. He reached out, as if to touch it, but his fingers only spun the hologram around rather than grasp it, and hold on so tight that the edges could cut his fingers.

“It’s lodged in the blade,” said Loki. “The stone. There’s no playing around with it. You have to completely draw it out in order to reach it.”

There was a pause as Loki’s fingers hovered over the model sword, almost in reverence even if the real thing was put on the side. His hand barely shook, and he could feel the coarse memory of pain course through his fingertips, as if the fire that forged this metal still burned, even in a hologram.

“How do we know that this curse isn’t just a legend?” said Natasha. “We’ve gotten several things about Norse mythology wrong before.”

“Is that a risk you’re willing to take?” said Loki.

Natasha pursed her lips.

“Even if it isn’t cursed in that way, if it’s an Infinity Stone, it’s no ruby,” said Steve. “Maybe we should bring Vision over here. He’s got a Stone right in him, he may understand more than we can.”

“He said himself he is still figuring out what the hell the Stone is to him,” said Tony.

“He might have answers, though,” said Steve. “And Wanda—her powers came from the Mind Gem. If anything, we could use a little more supernatural on our side.”

Indeed you do, thought Loki.

“You think we can trust them with that?” Natasha said.

Steve turned to Natasha, caught off guard.

“What do you mean by that?” Steve said.

Natasha bit her lip. She was staring at the sword lying on the table with a sense of both wariness and fixation, like a premonition she couldn’t ignore. Even Loki was surprised by her remark; he would never bother to credit himself an expert on any of their personalities, but distrust was something Natasha always manipulated, not something she would ever need to be afflicted by.

“It’s a dangerous, powerful weapon,” Natasha said. “And they are powerful people.”

“Natasha, this is Vision and Wanda,” said Steve. “They are powerful, but they are the last people who would use something to harm others. I mean, Vision can lift Mjolnir—that must mean something.”

Loki nearly choked on his own tongue. Suddenly, he was hyperaware of all talk about Vision, who before this was just another name that Loki could barely bother to remember.

“They don’t need intentions to harm others,” said Natasha. “I think we’ve covered that already.”

“That doesn’t really make any of us the exception then, does it?” Tony said flatly.

“This is ridiculous,” Steve said. “If you aren’t going to trust your own teammates, who are you going to trust? How do none of you have any faith in anyone else?”

“We’re hardly a team, Rogers,” said Tony. “We’re colleagues with baggage.”

“We would still be a team if you hadn’t—”

“What? Wanted to be kept accountable?”

Steve spun around, but Loki had already made it to Tyrfing before any of them could remember it. He held onto the hilt protectively, one hand held up as if he expected them to charge after it. It was still yet to be determined if that was a legitimate concern.

“Is now the time?” Loki said.

His head spun. He could feel the Stone weeding itself into his system, and he’d throw the sword halfway across the room to be nowhere near it if he wasn’t confident that the Avengers would chase after it. But his sudden outburst must have stunned them out of their argument, because the colour returned to their eyes and faces that Loki hadn’t realized had been drained of it.

“You’ve all had a long flight,” said T’Challa. He eyed each of the occupants of the room, as if challenging them to argue. “Much less a very long day. You should rest before we proceed.”

“I thought we didn’t have time for that,” Natasha said.

She looked uneasy, as if she was living through someone else’s walkthrough of her own body. T’Challa shook his head.

“We will get little done if everyone is up in arms,” said T’Challa. “If you’re about keeping the peace, start with yourselves, please.”

Steve ducked his head and left the room, muttering something about needing a fresh air. Not long after, Natasha followed. Loki had no intentions of leaving the sword, but before he could establish that, Sam cleared his throat.

“Mind if I have a word with you?” he said.

Loki hesitated. He prided himself in having a little bit of prediction of the other three Avengers present, but all he knew about Sam was that the man had wings. He braced himself and gave a cursory nod.

“You can leave the sword here,” T’Challa said.

Loki looked down at Tyrfing, which was still in his grips. He spent too long complying, but to keep in their good graces he set it back down on the table and followed Sam out of the office.

“Listen,” Sam said, once he took Loki to some private corner within the embassy. “I’m gonna need you to be honest with me, one on one. I’m not here to bully you or anything.”

Loki looked around them. They were out in the open, with wide windows that poured into what must have been some sort of recreational area in the embassy, with tables littered with tea mugs and newspapers. It wasn’t necessarily quiet, but private enough that it made no difference to anyone passing by.

“Well, then,” Loki said.

“What do you know about the Infinity Stones?” said Sam.

Loki was taken aback, unsure whether to credit Sam for hitting the nail in the head or for being stubbornly deaf to Loki’s past insistence that he knew nothing. Judging by the glare that Sam fixated on Loki, it was not the latter, unfortunately.

Still, Loki took in a deep breath, and fixed a bewildered look on his face that ought to win an award for how much he was trying to lay low.

“I don’t know anything about them,” he said.

“You seem to know quite a bit for an average citizen,” said Sam.

Loki raised his eyebrows.

“You can stop any person the street and ask them what they know about Infinity Stones, I’ll bet you my kidney that they won’t know what you’re talking about,” said Sam. “Stop any person and ask them about Tyrfing, and they’re probably not considering risking life and limb to dig it out, much less destroy it.”

“What’s your point?” said Loki.

“My point,” Sam said, his voice low, “is that you know a hell lot more than you like to play off. And if you’re going to try playing off ignorant to keep some innocent façade, you may be keeping something to yourself that could be dangerous if the rest of the team doesn’t know.”

Loki toyed carefully with the silence that fell afterward. Sam’s glare did not waver, and Loki couldn’t help but commend him for his motives for bringing up Loki’s lack of naivety. Sam was never in New York during that particular disaster—Loki wasn’t ignorant enough to assume Sam never heard of him (or rather, heard of his sins), but there was that glimmer of a blank slate, that it might not matter as much to Sam. But that hope was soon scrapped, because to assume anyone wouldn’t mind if Loki revealed his true identity was ludicrous.

“It’s not in my interest to harm anyone,” said Loki.

“Yeah, I’m going to need that to be more like an active avoidance rather than a matter of interest,” said Sam.

Loki’s eyebrow twitched.

“Do you think there’s something important that I am hiding?” said Loki.

“Are you buying yourself time right now?” said Sam.

Loki resisted smiling. He vaguely missed infuriating people on purpose, even if now was arguably not supposed to be one of those moments.

“I said my bit,” said Loki. “Don’t go near that sword so often. And for goodness’ sake, keep it out of the king’s office. The last thing that their kingdom needs is their king to wield Tyrfing.”

“Not so much an Excalibur type, is it?” said Sam. “So why?”

“Isn’t my warning enough?” said Loki.

“Not when you know the why,” said Sam. “If it’s some sort of radiation, or if it really is a curse—if it’s possessing people.”

“Ah,” said Loki.

Sam eyed Loki warily.

“Is it that, then?” said Sam. “Can it tamper with people’s minds?”

“I know your companions for a matter of six hours,” said Loki. “And I can already see the difference that Tyrfing makes. You see it too, don’t you? Or do you feel it?”

 Sam set his jaw. Loki kept his gaze steady, but his mind was racing. How much could he give away before they were suspicious as to _why_ he knew so much? How much should he keep from them so that they would not give up on Thor? (And why shouldn’t they give up on Thor, when he had given up on himself?)

“Both,” Sam said.

Loki tried not to look startled. He hadn’t expected Sam to actually answer him. It was not something anyone liked to admit, seeing the weakness in their friends as well as in themselves.

“I feel like I’ve gotten ten shades more pessimistic within the past twenty-four hours, and I don’t want to handle more than that,” said Sam. “So it’s the stone, then? I’m not imagining it?”

“That Stone in that sword is like a stomach,” said Loki. “It’s starving for souls.”

“Holy shit, man,” Sam said, exasperated.

“I’m not exaggerating,” Loki said irately.

“What do souls have to do with being possessed by a sword?” said Sam.

“The sword isn’t possessing anyone,” Loki said. “They aren’t being corrupted into any way that isn’t foreign to them.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. Loki challengingly returned the hard stare. That was the nature of these stones. They never gave anyone a thought that didn’t already exist in their minds, but there was no denying that they fed those dark shadows until they swelled into something more formidable.

“Anyway,” Loki said, rather coldly. “It’s just a theory.”

“Pretty damn solid theory if you ask me,” said Sam.

“Thank you,” Loki said.

Sam crossed his arms.

“So,” Sam said. “Do you know anything about Thor?”

Loki paused. He felt the heat against his scalp. His stomach turned.

“Sorry?” Loki said.

Don’t think about Thor, his first alarm signals urged him. Don’t think about Thor, don’t think about Thor, don’t think about Thor, and unsurprisingly he could only remember Thor and feel his insides burn like acid until they ached. Underneath the table at which they sat, he dug his fingernails into the back of his hand.

“I was the one who searched up Tyrfing, remember?” said Sam. “It’s completely straight out of Norse mythology. And anything about that has something to do with Thor. I don’t know if you might be his fanboy or something.”

“I can assure you that you lot are my first celebrity sightings of you Avengers,” Loki said.

“Ha,” said Sam. “Well, as Stark was saying, Thor was the one who knew the most about these Infinity Stones before he skipped off. And if this thing in the sword is another Infinity Stone, you seem to know a good deal about them, too.”

You have no idea, Loki wished he could say.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew a thing or two more about Thor,” said Sam.

Loki would laugh if he didn’t feel like he was going to be sick.

“I can assure you,” said Loki. “I do not know Thor.”

It could either be a lie or the truth and nothing in between. Loki hardly knew himself.

Sam ran a hand over his forehead, looking exhausted. Loki cocked his head.

“Disappointed?” said Loki.

“Not that I really expected much,” said Sam. “But it’d be a hell lot easier if you did.”

Loki laughed.

“It’s fine, though,” Sam said. “You’re help, even if you’re a bit stingy about it.”

Loki laughed again, this time genuine.

“Why, you’re welcome,” he said. “I don’t get that often.”

-

“You will heal in time,” said Eir. “It’s a miracle that you’re alive.”

Loki would have laughed if his throat wasn’t parched. She had said it very candidly, which made Loki remember that for the one who oversaw his injuries, sicknesses, health ever since infancy that she must have lied to him about his heritage for as long as Odin and Frigga had. It wasn’t a mystery to any of them why he fared more poorly than Thor did in Muspelheim.

She smoothed ointment over the crackling, burnt skin that snaked up his arm like a welted rope. If she treated him any more roughly than she used to in the past, he must have imagined it. When she took up healing rune and pressed the smooth stone against his palm, he jerked back, hissing.

“Hold still,” she said. “This will heal your nerves. The fire has burned you deeply. I’ve only been able to heal the skin so that it scars. It’s a miracle you aren’t festering.”

“Miracles,” said Loki.

“Come now,” she said.

She pulled open Loki’s palm. He shrank away.

“Cypripedium,” he said. “I want cypripedium.”

Eir blinked, her stern face caught off guard but unyielding.

“What for?” she said.

“My seidr,” said Loki. “Surtr. He took. He took away my seidr.”

For the first time in a long time, Eir’s face softened for him. She continued to press the rune against his palm. He jerked away, but she had a firm grip on his wrist.

“I need cypripedium,” he said.

“You do not, Prince Loki,” said Eir.

“You don’t understand,” he said.

“But I do,” she said.

“Stop this,” he said, pushing away the rune.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” said Eir.

“It numbs,” said Loki.

“It could be far worse,” said Eir. “It’s done much good. Your seidr will do the rest—I cannot heal everything at once or else your own body will forget how.”

“No,” he said. “It can’t.”

“Loki,” Eir said.

Loki looked up to her. She made him feel like a child. He could hold his hands out to her and cry out, make it better, please. He could throttle her with his bare hands and hiss, make it better or else. His hands shook, and they hurt just for lying still.

“You’ve gone through a difficult ordeal,” she said. “And it’ll take time. It is natural if your seidr does not come immediately.”

“It’s gone,” he said. “What part of that do you not understand?”

“A very difficult ordeal,” she repeated.

He left the healing chambers disturbed and dissatisfied. The guards flanked his side immediately, and if he had had his seidr with him still, he could have given them the slip just to be away from them, but he couldn’t, because it was gone, because Surtr scorched it out of him, because he was a fool, because.

And just as quickly that they chaperoned him, they quickly left, after dropping him off at the king’s study, Thor’s study, whoever, Loki hasn’t been keeping track, he was shepherded from one tyrant to another, a royal sleeve dog. Even after returning to Asgard, Loki was not allowed to roam on his own, and Thor somehow had the idea that it wasn’t right to put him in a cell.

And just as quickly as the guards left him with Thor, Thor quickly ignored him. His face was still scarred, as were his arms, although they already looked on their way to healing, unlike the mottled, burning wounds that Loki was left with. Loki stood at the door, silent, while Thor moved from one task to the next, one at the desk, another with a dignitary whispering into his ear before flitting away, another at the window to send message via Odin’s ravens, another avoiding Loki’s gaze and presence.

Loki watched him, just as silent, trying not to laugh, or scream, whichever came first at the right moment. Come too close, he may laugh, knock him aside to reach a tome out of the shelf, he may scream.

“Thor,” Loki said.

Thor was not a liar. He didn’t play deaf. He winced at Loki’s voice.

“What?” said Thor.

He did not look Loki in the eyes when he spoke. Nor did he raise his voice. Loki thought that maybe that was a sign that Thor did not know everything. He dared to hope. But it did not explain why Thor was not the one laughing, or screaming, or crying, or all at once.

“Did Eir take care of you?” Thor said, before Loki could continue. He said it formally, as if Loki was yet another dignitary with a sore tooth.

“Your wounds are infected,” said Loki.

“You’re mistaken,” said Thor.

“Look at you,” said Loki.

Thor’s wounds had scarred over. The skin was knitting together again. Thor’s race did not make him susceptible to fire. But Loki saw the oozing, open wounds, gaping wide, swelling with infection, and Thor was doing nothing about it. He walked as if he had no limp. He spoke as if he had no loss.

“You need rest,” Thor said. He did not look Loki in the eyes.

“You,” said Loki.

“Not this again,” said Thor.

Loki laughed. It tasted terrible in his mouth.

“There’s too much to be done for any of that,” said Thor.

“So where next?” Loki said.

Thor did not answer. Loki strode forward and took Thor by the shoulders to turn him to face him. Thor instinctively brushed Loki’s hands off. The scars on his palm stung.

“You can’t do this without me,” he said. “And you know it.”

“What?” said Thor. “Oversee Asgard? I daresay I can.”

“A bite doesn’t suit you as well as a bark does,” said Loki.

Thor pushed Loki away.

“It’s on Midgard now,” Loki said. “The Stone. I don’t know where on Midgard, but you have your friends that can cover more ground to search if—”

“Enough,” said Thor.

Loki felt a jolt in his chest.

“If you do not grieve,” said Loki, “and do not act, then what are you doing here, standing still?”

“I said _enough_ ,” said Thor.

When Thor made for the door, Loki reacted as best as he could, that is, he took a letter opener and hurled it at the door before Thor could open it.

“You’re a child,” said Thor. “What do you want from me?”

“For you to be a child,” Loki said.

It didn’t matter if it didn’t make sense to Thor. It was every bit true for Loki. He watched Thor, shaking, waiting for some tremor of emotion, some cry for help or cry to hold, some semblance that Thor was not just some functioning, efficient shell.

“I’ve grown, Loki,” Thor said. “It’s about time you’ve done the same.”

Loki let out a bitter laugh.

“You call this grown?” said Loki. “This—this silence and frozen still, all because of a woman?”

Thor looked as if he could breathe fire. If Loki did not already know that that was impossible, he would cower. Instead, he let out a breath, and in just one sigh it was as if Thor’s entire being crumbled into ash, and Surtr’s fire had long already destroyed him before they had returned to Asgard half-alive just two weeks ago.

“I’ve known you for a full millennia,” said Loki. “But I don’t even have to be your mother to know that you’ve changed beyond reason.”

At the mention of their mother, Thor clenched his teeth. Loki dared to maintain eye contact. He felt a wave of dark and ugly emotions, but he let them wash over him and found that even it was swallowed by the sea that drowned him while he watched Thor die in slow motion.

 “You’re still injured,” Thor said, as if he had not heard the latter half of their argument anymore. “We aren’t doing anything while you are still injured.”

The calm, unrelated quiet took Loki off guard, which Thor took to leave.  Thor left him, even with his own decree that Loki would not be allowed anywhere without him, and Loki would have torn down this office in a heartbeat if he knew that it would not make Thor do so much as blink.

 

Eir pressed the rune against his palm, he squeezed it until it snapped, until his hands shook from the pain. It crumbled into fine dust, useless. His hand seared with pain. Eir caught the ashes that fell between his fingers, but the rune was destroyed already.

“No,” he said. “None of that.”

“It will help you heal, Prince Loki,” said Eir.

“None of that,” said Loki. He dared to credit Thor. “What good will that do?”


	6. Chapter 6

“So are you from Lofoten?” said Steve.

Loki nearly dropped the paper cup of water that he was drinking from the water cooler. He resisted shooting a glare at Steve from over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Steve said, lifting his hands up. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Most people start a conversation with a warning,” said Loki.

He refilled his cup from the water cooler, having sloshed half of its contents onto his shoes. The poor excuse for cups could carry a thimbleful and a half at best.

“We’re waiting for two more of our friends to come over to Norway to help us,” Steve said to whatever unasked question Loki never deigned to bring up. “Vision and Wanda. They’ve had—well—experiences with an Infinity Stone. The Mind Gem. They might be of help.”

So have I, Loki thought.

“They should be here in the next couple of hours,” said Steve.

So this must be his way of passing time—slow torture. Loki finished his water in one gulp to resist sighing in defeat.

“So,” Steve said. “Are you?”

“No,” Loki said.

He filled the water cup again. Steve sighed.

“T’Challa says to take a break for the next couple of hours before reconvening,” said Steve. “Don’t know where he put Tyrfing, but he says he is going to put it in storage or something. He seems to think we need it.”

“Hm,” said Loki. Apparently Sam actually listened to him. “Where’s your other friend?”

“Which one?” said Steve. When Loki raised his eyebrows, he relented. “Sam? He’s in a computer lab, doing some research.”

“Relentless man,” said Loki. He doubted Sam would find much more about the Infinity Stones on mortal research. Still, he commended the effort.

“He said that you told him a thing or two more about Tyrfing,” said Steve.

“Ah,” said Loki, as if he finally found the last piece to his jigsaw puzzle. “There’s the rub. What do you want to know? You might as well skip the small talk.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow.

“I was going to say that if you’re afraid you’ll get in trouble for knowing things about the Infinity Stones, you’re not,” said Steve.

Loki waited, but Steve didn’t add any more to that comment.

“What?” Loki said. “No thinly veiled threat?”

Steve pursed his lips.

“Also,” Steve said. “If you really are—or were—a part of HYDRA until this whole thing began—we’re not going to hurt you for that.”

Loki frowned, bemused.

“I thought HYDRA and you Avengers were not on the best terms,” Loki said, wondering if everything that he had gathered and assumed in the past ten hours was completely off mark.

“Yes,” said Steve. “But considering that HYDRA was trying to kill you when we got to you, I assume you and HYDRA aren’t either.”

Loki raised his eyebrows.

“And the enemy of your enemy is your friend?” said Loki.

“I’m just putting it out there,” Steve said. “You really do know a thing or two about Infinity Stones. The only people that really had to deal with them before was SHIELD. And, in turn, HYDRA.”

Loki hummed.

“So if you’re afraid of us finding out about that,” said Steve. “We aren’t going to persecute you on the spot, or anything. I said it already—we’ll take care of you.”

Loki turned to give Steve a sceptical look. Thor used to sing about the goodhearted forgiveness and spirits of mortals. If they spent just on day in Asgard that so-called spirit would probably kill them.

“I don’t think there’s very much you can do for me in general,” Loki said. “Considering that I’m housebroken and everything.”

“Yeah, but don’t forget,” said Steve. “You were just attacked by some Tesseract-powered weapons and are somehow still standing.”

“Indeed I am,” Loki said, before realizing that Steve had said all of this with an ulterior suggestion. He wondered if it was too late to fake mortal and cower over from the supposed wounds that the weapon left him.

“It’s not something everyone gets up and about afterwards so quickly,” said Steve. “You know—not saying you are or if you are not, but it can be frightening, even afterward.”

Loki gave a crooked smile, tasting smoke in his mouth. Hell, he wanted to say. Where were you about a month ago?

“Why are you here?” Loki asked. It was an unwarranted question, even more unwarranted continuation of conversation. When Steve turned quizzically to him, Loki scrambled for a sense of sensibility. “If youre not from here, what are you doing here?”

Steve gave a soft laugh that just missed its mark.

“I’m all the way from Brooklyn. New York,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m only going to take care of there. Anywhere that needs help, I’ll be there. We’ll be there.”

He added the last part with distant promise, as if he had to remind himself. Loki resisted applauding.

“Inspiring,” he said.

A corner of Steve’s lips twitched upward.

“Truly,” Loki said, too heartily. “I don’t know how you do it without a single grudge.”

That moment of relief and ease immediately sapped away from Steve’s face at such a rate that made Loki both impressed at himself and a touch convicted, as if he had casually promised a beggar bread before eating it in front of him.

“It’s—” Steve faltered, then shook his head. Loki took a long draught of his water to draw out Steve’s pause before smacking his lips and relenting.

“Small talk not your strong suit, Captain?” Loki said.

“I’m not Captain anymore,” said Steve.

Loki blinked. Steve cleared his throat and busied himself with filling up a water cup at the cooler. It then occurred to Loki that Steve was without his signature shield, even during the battle at Lofoten.

“That’s news to me,” he said.

“Well, I’m not really going to hold a press conference about it,” Steve said. He let out a sigh that made his shoulders slump. “You can do all you can for what you think is right—but you’ll never _be_ good enough for the shield, in the end.”

Loki resisted rolling his eyes.

“You _are_ the shield,” said Loki. “You make the shield. It’s not Mjolnir, it doesn’t choose you.”

“Hmm,” said Steve, giving Loki a sidelong glance. He shook his head with an afterthought. “Well, Tony’s father did. And I lied to him. Tony, that is.”

“That doesn’t seem dramatically harsh,” Loki said, who was a self-proclaimed expert on all things dramatic and harsh. “I think your high, upstanding morals as Captain America is—”

“I was trying to protect a friend, and in turn I betrayed Tony,” said Steve. “I was trying to be loyal to Bucky and that meant betraying Tony’s trust. Poor thanks to the man who made that Captain America shield.”

With a jolt, Loki realized that this was the first casual conversation he had with another person in a good several years. One that involved exchanges of experiences, casual facts, thoughts, rather than threats and grief and plans about the Infinity Stones that didn’t matter who was on the other end of the conversation. The fact that it was with Steve Rogers was unexpected.

“Huh,” said Loki. “So even you can do wrong.”

“I’m going to need you to take a break with your commentary,” said Steve.

Loki laughed.

“Well, it would be frustrating if you could be on everyone’s good terms in everything you did,” Loki said. It sounded more harrowing than anything else to Loki, who would be lucky if he was even on good terms with himself at a given moment. “And to think you think an accident costs you your shield.”

“Accident?” said Steve. “I didn’t mean to break Tony’s trust and I didn’t want to. But in the end, I knew what I was doing when I defended Bucky even when I knew that…in the end, I chose Bucky. And I don’t regret it. But it’s hellish that the way I broke Tony’s trust was the way I kept defending what we as the Avengers should do. Choose to save who we can—and some people fall through the cracks. Oh.”

Steve pointed to Loki’s hand. Loki didn’t realize what the matter was until he felt the cold water running down his wrist. The conical paper cup in his hand was nothing but a sopping, crumpled mess in his hand. He quickly tossed it into the bin. The water stung the wounds underneath his visage.

“Flimsy,” Loki said.

He couldn’t help but smile, in spite of himself.

“Well, you said it yourself,” Loki said. “You don’t regret it, do you? At least you have that.”

His grin grew wider. His own physical body liked to spite himself, as a hobby. He turned away so that he didn’t have to confess that to anyone else.

“So what?” Loki said. “You’re giving up your warrior status for a mistake you made? Is that what you hero types do? Give up when you’ve failed your own sense of morality?”

Who was Loki talking to? The water cooler, the wall, Steve, someone else. A broad question—anyone could answer, Loki was _dying_ to know.

Steve frowned.

“If I gave up, would I still be here?” said Steve.

“No,” Loki said. “No, you wouldn’t.”

That persistent ghost, or not-ghost, Thor, gnawed at the back of his mind. He couldn’t have a damn conversation without thinking about Thor. He tried to take the reins, but between him and his brother, he was never the stronger wrestler.

“I’m sorry if I stepped on an eggshell,” Steve said.

Loki shot Steve an incredulous look.

“Why are you apologizing?” he said.

“I thought you got upset just now,” said Steve. “From what I said. I don’t mean to do that.”

Loki stepped back, as if he was suddenly sized up by Steve’s need for decency, and intuition.

“Was I off the mark there?” said Steve.

“No,” said Loki. “No, you were a bit…”

He faltered. He thought of Thor, and how he and Steve must have seen eye to eye very much. Steve would have understood Thor’s decision. Steve would have accepted it and still do good, because that’s what types like Steve and Thor were like. They save who they can, kill themselves in the process, and regret the evil they’ve let fester.

“You remind me of my brother,” Loki said.

An unwarranted truth. He didn’t know what was the worth or the advantage in saying it. There was none, and yet, there was this hunger just to say it, as if that might put a rest to all those thoughts in Loki’s head, reminding him time and time again that Thor was lost and he regretted Loki very, very much. It didn’t, but it felt like it would, and that was enough to entice him.

“Really?” said Steve. He sounded gentle. “Were you two close?”

Loki couldn’t hold back a snort. Steve gave a wry smile.

“Not that great, huh?” said Steve.

“You’d have been, if you met him,” said Loki. He huffed a laugh because of the irony he purposely created. “You would have helped him out a lot.”

Hear that, Thor? Loki thought bitterly. Can you take a damn hint?

“I wish I could have,” Steve said.

You could, Loki thought. You still could, because you mourn your friends’ losses even when you’ve nothing to lose, you want to help and even in all your self-proclaimed sins you would never help Thor as little as I do. Because you would dive into the waters to save him from drowning, and I’m only trying to throw the lifeguard in after him.

His stomach sank. He forgot that he did not want to think about Thor, or that he did not want every single moment of his life to be dedicated, shaped, affected by, in response to Thor. His stomach sank, because he could count the number of ways he failed Thor with the stars in the sky, and every savage denial that it mattered to him tried to light fires in his mind to dim the night.

“Steve!”

Sam was jogging towards their direction. Loki jumped a little at the sudden interruption. Steve frowned with concern. When Sam reached them, he gave Loki a cautious look before turning back to Steve.

“We gotta regroup,” said Sam. “Tony’s picking up sudden spikes in that sword’s energy levels.”

“What?” Loki said sharply.

“That’s not good,” Steve said. “Too much and if HYDRA’s keeping an eye open for it—”

“They’d be led straight to here,” Sam said.

Loki’s mind raced. What agitated Tyrfing even more, all of a sudden? The Stone—no, he knew which one it was, he was certain of it. The Soul Gem starved for souls, he knew that. But what could possibly make it overreact?

“Well,” said Steve. “Let’s figure out what the damn thing wants.”

-

According to the line graph that Tony’s device displayed while tracking the energy levels of Tyrfing, the Soul Gem could cause an earthquake with its very lines. Loki was wary to even approach it—if he could feel the burn of the Soul Gem by putting his hand near it, he braced himself for walking into the same room as it.

“Makes me less inclined to just say to hell with it and take the sword out,” Sam said grimly.

“Really?” said Natasha. “Makes me even more so.”

Tony scanned through the different statistics that his computer had logged when tracking Tyrfing’s activities. His brow furrowed deeper and deeper with each new discovery. Loki could feel the pulse of the Soul Gem just sitting a little ways away. It was nauseating.

“It’s almost rhythmic,” said Tony. “The way the levels spike. Like a seismograph. Or—”

“A heartbeat?” Sam said in spite of himself.

“You joke now,” said Tony.

“Then there’s something about Oslo that it’s reacting to,” said T’Challa. “Something about the environment, maybe?”

“Well,” said Sam. “Baldur kind of described it like it was alive.”

All eyes turned to Loki. Loki was too busy getting lost in his own thoughts, trying to decipher the Soul Gem’s antics. He found everyone’s gaze to be infuriatingly distracting.

“We shouldn’t waste any time,” said Loki.

“We need to figure out what to do and how to do it, first,” said Steve. “If we want to destroy it—which, to be honest, we still aren’t solid on whether or not that’s what we should do with it—”

“You very much should,” said Loki. “There’s nothing pleasant or redeemable about this little thing.”

“Vision—” started Tony.

“Wasn’t a good guy until Thor came around as an electric defibrillator,” said Natasha.

Loki gripped his hand into a fist. Thor. It was always Thor. No matter where he turned he couldn’t escape the fact that Thor left shadows everywhere he touched. Loki was no longer seeking any sort of sun, though—he’d rather just be blind.

“And the Mind Gem, as we established before, was responsible for mind control and torture,” said Sam. “This one—let’s just call it the Arm Gem—”

“ _Arm_ Gem?” Loki said.

“You hold swords with your hands,” Sam said as if that settled the matter.

“I told you it was hungry for souls and you call it the _Arm Gem_?”

“So they’re not named after parts of a body, all right,” Sam said, raising his hands in defeat. “ _Soul_ Gem sounds kind of Hollywood, but I’ll go with it. If it’s hungry for souls then it’s probably going to do a lot worse than control minds.”

“We don’t know how to destroy one, though,” said Tony. “Unless we have to drive a basilisk fang into it, but we’re in the wrong franchise for that sort of solution.”

“What are you talking about?” said Loki. “Basilisks can only harm organic matter.”

“Now’s not the time for any of that,” Natasha said while Tony snorted. Loki frowned, bemused. “Why didn’t you tell us about the sword being hungry for souls before?”

“I told Sam that it was a theory,” Loki said coolly.

“It’s a dangerous theory,” said Natasha. “Which calls for extreme caution. If you keep information like that, we could have taken some sort of route without knowing that would make the situation worse.”

“Right,” Loki said.

Natasha shot Loki a devastating look, as if Loki had proposed murder. Sam sank lower in his chair, running his hands down his face.

“Do you think we can destroy it from the outside?” Natasha said.

“That depends on how strong the scabbard is,” said Loki.

“I can have the suit give it a whorl,” said Tony.

“For something to be strong enough to contain this Infinity Stone,” said Loki. “It is nothing simple by itself.”

“Well, no use in thinking if we aren’t going to do any trying,” said Tony. “We can try breaking open the scabbard. Or melting the damn thing off. Or just blunt force impact and hope that it shatters whatever is beneath as well.”

“Would physical damage be the answer?” said Steve.

“Considering that it’s eating our souls, apparently,” said Sam.

“Patronus. That was what I was going for earlier,” said Tony, snapping his fingers.

“We shouldn’t get near it, then. Like Baldur said,” said Sam. “Destroy it—maybe not go near it.”

“How are we going to manage that trapeze act?” said Natasha.

“I don’t know,” Sam said. He pressed his lips together. “But I feel like I can feel its effect on me already.”

“What?” said Tony.

Loki raised his eyebrows. Sam sighed, shaking his head.

“Like everything in my head is slowly going south,” said Sam. “And everything’s looking negative. Like, is it possible to do it, is it hopeless, is there any point if we don’t know jack about this—you all know what I mean, don’t you?”

“No,” said Natasha.

“Are you feeling all right?” said Steve.

Sam pressed his lips together. Loki felt a jolt in his chest. He didn’t know a single thing about Sam Wilson, but if there was anything he could sense, it was that out of the Avengers, he had soured the least in Tyrfing’s presence. The pieces were slowly fitting themselves together in Loki’s mind. He spoke immediately.

“Yes,” Loki said. He turned to face Sam. “Yes, I think so.”

And I know that everyone else does, too, he thought.

“Trust me,” Sam said. He rubbed his brow. “I’m usually not a Debbie downer. Something’s off. I don’t know. Not just cosmic energy or whatever. It’s probably got to do with that sword and it doesn’t feel great.”

“No,” said Loki. “But that’s all right.” He hesitated, wondering if he could risk being so sickeningly campy in order to test a theory. “It’s good you said that.”

“Hey,” said Steve. He clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulders. “We’ll handle this. Even if we don’t have Thor. Or any idea. You can trust in that.”

Loki wanted to shake Steve by the shoulders just to see what would come out of him. Standing tall and with his mighty hand on poor, suffering souls, give Loki a break. He knew for a fact that Steve had no better outlook on the situation than Sam did, for his own reasons, and everyone should know that by now about everyone else.

“Got any solutions in your head we can trust, then?” Tony said.

“Vision and Wanda are on their way right now,” Steve said. “Even if they don’t have insight, a little more magic on our side may be what we need right now.”

Loki let out a long breath. Sam nodded, absentmindedly running his hand back and forth across his lips. Loki struggled to keep from bursting, and letting his voice remain level.

“What are you thinking, Sam?” said Loki.

Sam rubbed his eyes. Loki jolted. For a moment, he thought they flashed green, but in a moment, they remained as if nothing was amiss. Loki thought briefly of his sceptre, and how blue the eyes of his subordinates were after he ensnared them. It felt so long ago.

“Nothing,” Sam said, then paused, then said, “There are just a lot of doubts going in my head right now.”

“That’s understandable,” said Steve. “Thanks for being honest.”

He took Sam’s shoulders and gripped it gently. Loki felt a sudden twinge in his chest. He didn’t know why. That was a lie. He knew exactly why. He pushed Thor out of his mind. This is not the time, he told himself. This is not the time. But it was the time, because he remembered very distinctly throwing a knife at Thor’s door just to keep him from walking away, he remembered needling him with the knife of his words to make Thor bleed. He remembered very distinctly what he had cost Thor, and he couldn’t even blame the truth that they were not blood brothers for his incompetency when Steve and Sam demonstrated what brotherhood looked like with just one simple sentence.

“Just as long as you don’t drop out,” said Tony.

“I’m not dropping out of anything,” Sam said.

“Leave him alone,” Loki said.

Tony raised his eyebrows so high that they might as well have added to his hairline. Even Loki felt like he ought to gag at this instinct to defend someone as irrelevant as another mortal. But Sam did not credit indignation for his outburst. Sam did not lash out at Tony, nor did his shoulders slouch in resentment and ire. He did not speak with fire. He was resisting the Soul Gem’s influence.

He realized with a bitter sting that this mortal was faring better than he was.

 “I don’t doubt the importance of staying away from the sword,” T’Challa said. “But there’s the detail that the sword is now easily trackable if HYDRA is keeping an eye out for it.”

Tony cursed.

“It needs to be guarded, then,” said Steve.

“What did I just say?” said Loki.

“You think I can’t handle it?” said Tony.

“I have said nothing of that sort,” said Loki.

“We’ll have cycles,” Sam said. “Take turns. Maybe it won’t affect us as much if we take breaks.”

“That’s endearing,” Loki said.

“Weren’t you just defending me about ten seconds ago?”

“Unless we know at this very moment what to do,” said T’Challa. “That is something we must do. Tyrfing in our hands, although it may affect us negatively, would be safer for everyone than Tyrfing in HYDRA’s hands.”

Loki pursed his lips. He turned his gaze to the Avengers—to Steve, Tony, Natasha, who stumbled with their words less and less, who took less pauses to frown at what they did not expect in their minds or mouths.

“That is a lot of faith,” said Loki, “in some people just as human as the enemy is.”

-

“You all right?”

When Steve had asked Sam to join him in Norway just yesterday, the last expectation either of them had of the trip was that they would end up in an Air BnB in Oslo, about five miles out of city centre, trying to assure the kind elderly lady who housed them that they were there as tourists, not vigilantes. The bunk bed was originally her granddaughters’, apparently, and the floral quilting added a jarring touch to the whole situation.

Sam hung his bath towel over one post of the bunk bed. Steve was sitting at the desk, the little hours of sleep that they have had since they flew to Norway finally weighing down on him.

“I feel like I should be asking you that one,” said Sam.

“I’m fine,” said Steve.

Sam raised his eyebrows. Steve barely made eye contact with Sam, instead absentmindedly fiddling with the pens in the pencil cup on the desk.

“I’m just worried about what you said this afternoon,” said Steve.

“I told you, it’s not going to make me drop out,” said Sam.

“I know that,” said Steve. “But you not helping out is not the main issue.”

Sam leaned against the bunk bed ladder. Steve hadn’t climbed into it yet but he highly doubted that either of them neatly fitted into the bed. It was a last minute decision to stay here, and unlike Tony neither Steve nor Sam could afford a five star hotel room in downtown Oslo. They had no idea where Natasha was keeping camp, and while Vision could probably sleep standing up Wanda had no real bank account to draw from either when she made it here.

“You don’t have to worry,” said Sam. “I think I freaked out everyone in that room when I said that.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” said Steve.

And yet, there was such an uneasy kneejerk reaction to Sam when he had spoken up that Steve couldn’t quite look him in the eyes now. Not that it felt inappropriate, or unusual, or that he didn’t want to hear what was on Sam’s mind, but it was such a tense moment where everyone was on the edge and needed to stick together, not voice their unease. If Tyrfing was as imminent of a danger as Baldur claimed and Sam refuted, then there couldn’t be time now to falter.

“I felt like everyone thought I was saying that the sky was falling,” said Sam.

“That’s not true,” said Steve. “Do you still feel that way?”

“What?” said Sam. “Oh—what I was saying today?”

“Yeah,” said Steve. “What was it?”

Sam rubbed the back of his neck.

“I don’t know, really,” Sam said. “I felt like—I mean, listen, we really aren’t that much of a team. What Tony was saying. How the hell are we going to get this thing done when we don’t know what we’re doing, we don’t trust each other—hell, the last time we dealt with something of this level didn’t Ultron come out of it and then an entire city got dropped onto the ground?”

“What are you trying to say?” Steve said.

“That I don’t know how capable we are. I don’t know how capable _I_ am,” said Sam. “And I know this isn’t a one person thing. Obviously, that would probably fall on its face if it were. But maybe—maybe it’s beyond us and I—augh.”

He massaged his forehead. Steve put down the pencil cup.

“You all right?” he said. “Take your time.”

“Sorry,” said Sam.

Sam wiped his brow, as if he was running a fever. It struck Steve that he never often saw Sam vulnerable, unless he had already moved beyond it. He knew of Sam’s experiences from the military, but little about the grieving and recovery process. He knew of Sam’s ups and downs, but little of how he walked through them. And yet now, as Sam did something as simple as stutter in front of Steve now, Steve wondered wryly if he had ever gotten the chance to do the same.

“I don’t want to lose any one of us,” said Sam. “And there’s something about a haunted sword that wants to kill everybody that makes me on the edge about it, to be honest.”

“So,” said Steve. “Are you scared?”

Sam wrinkled his nose. Steve braced himself for the answer.

“If you put it that way,” said Sam. “Then that could be it.”

Steve nodded, silent. It wasn’t that Steve didn’t remember fear; it was just that if he thought about it, deeply, he couldn’t remember ever saying it out loud to himself or others. Maybe he was afraid when he had to fight Bucky head on, or when Tony tore off Bucky’s arm. He was probably afraid, or he was most definitely afraid, but he hadn’t the chance to even process that that might have been the case before he had to pull Bucky out of the wreckage and make decisions, make sure Bucky was all right, make sure that no one was going to get hurt because he was in charge, he had to protect everyone. He had too much on the line to be afraid, and suddenly it felt more like a luxury than an impediment.

“But maybe it’s the sword talking,” said Sam.

“Sword?” said Steve.

“Baldur said something about the sword messing with us,” said Sam. “He didn’t really go into detail, though, and I don’t know how much he knows and how much he’s just making noises with his mouth.”

Steve hummed.

“I think it’d be pretty obvious if it was messing with us,” said Steve. “With Loki’s sceptre, it was blatant.”

“Yeah, but if you didn’t know that someone got poked in the chest, would you have felt like Barton was a different person in general?”

“He was shooting at us, yeah.”

“Yeah, well that’s the Mind Gem. I’m guessing the Soul Gem, if this is the Soul Gem, might work differently.”

Steve didn’t answer at first. He knew that Tony was on the edge more often than not now, although that could easily just be Steve and Sam’s presence around him since the last time they had interacted was less than positive. Natasha’s thought process didn’t make as much sense to him as it did before, and himself—he had his off days. It was nothing permanent. It was nothing he couldn’t handle.

“Do you feel it at all?” said Sam.

“Hm?”

“Tyrfing’s effect,” said Sam.

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it. He shrugged.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

Sam bit his lip. Steve might have been lying. He very well may be lying. But he did not backpedal from his answer. If a soldier stumbled, if he was falling, Steve needed to stay firm on his feet. He could carry a platoon on his shoulders, even if all his bones were broken, because he was still a supersoldier even if he was not Captain America, and he had no excuse. With Bucky back under, his time asleep indefinite, it has been a long time since Steve needed Bucky to pull him out of a fight and help him home.

“You gonna turn in?” said Sam.

Steve shook his head at the nightstand. It was nearly eleven at night and the sun was only just now setting. His body didn’t know how to react, trying to keep up appearances, because it wasn’t natural to be tired when the sun was still up. Not for a supersoldier like him, anyway.

“I will,” he said. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“I’m taking top bunk, then,” said Sam.

“Knock yourself out.”

-

In the privacy of the hotel room that Tony had booked for him, where he would wait until Wanda and Vision would come to complete the rest of the assessment to destroy Tyrfing, Loki beat the cowering figure on the ground.

Crack.Their head snapped against the floor, leaving a splotch. He drew his fists again up again.

Swing. Crack. Into the wall. Swing. Crack. The nose shattered. Blood sprung out like a trap.

Swing. Crack. Loki’s arms ached. He didn’t stop to catch his breath. He could feel the impact on his knuckles against the wretched thing’s bone, damn, it felt so good.

Crack. Crack. Nothing was quite as satisfying. Crack. Nothing would stop it from being satisfying. Crack. It could be more satisfying.

He swung his fist into its face until there was nothing left of its nose or eyes or jaw but a crooked, split mess. Crack. He beat the figure even after it stopped moving, and by then he didn’t have the energy to command it to twitch. He finally lowered the bat. The figure was so misshapen, brutally beaten that he couldn’t remember if he had made it to look like himself or not, or if he had opted for some other insufferable creature. He could still make out one of its eyes, swollen, gaping open in its deadness. Ah, yes. He did make it look like himself. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been quite as satisfying.

I’m clean, he thought, out of breath, as he stared at the oozing, bleeding mess. I’m clean, I’m good now, I’m clean. Except he would repeat this next week, at best, just to settle his stomach. He already planned it in his schedule. I’m clean. See, Thor (Why Thor?). I’ve done the hard work for you. Now rest. And leave me alone. (I never wanted to save you)

He sank his fists straight into the stomach, and shattered the rune that he had whittled out of brittle rock that lay on the floor. Immediately, the body disappeared, and the bloodstains on the carpet and on his clothes disappeared as the illusion that the rune had created in the likeness of his image created, leaving nothing but an empty room. He knew it was very petty. There were bigger things to worry about. He just needed to settle debts with ghosts.

If he had looked in the mirror, he would have seen that there were specks of an unnatural colour in his eyes. But his eyes were already green, so he would not have noticed.

“All right,” Loki said, out of breath. “Let’s get back to work, then.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing has been a bit difficult since I've been constantly distracted by other things. But I really, really enjoyed writing this chapter, hahaha, and am really excited to share it. Thank you guys so much for coming along for this ride; I so appreciate it, and really am touched by your comments and reading. It means a lot to me, especially since writing for the Avengers fandom really isn't my forte as it used to be. Enjoy!!

When Loki woke up it was storming. The rain made houses in the city streets—curtains of rare, walls of rain, carpet of water on the ground. A touch of ice and it would create its own kingdom.

Loki sat like a statue staring out the window from the hotel bed he woke in, keeping still as if he could drown where he was safe and warm and dry. He watched until he forgot time, faking serenity with indifference. Rain made him think of sickbeds, of tutors gently ushering him and Thor back inside to dry up and stay in the nursery today, of sitting by a fire and reading for hours. But nostalgia was an infection that soured his stomach, and he was better off emptying himself of everything but the rhythmic rainfall in his ears, falling through his head, into his chest. He faked calm with a buzzing numbness.

Clap of thunder .His heart skipped a beat. He stayed perfectly still and felt the sweat pinned on his forehead.

Hell, he thought. What am I doing here?

If the Avengers kept the Soul Gem, it would be of no consequence of him. If Thanos found it, it was not ideal but not unimaginable. If it was destroyed, he would feel no sense of accomplishment or peace.  Thor would perhaps be a little more relieved, but Loki knew better than to hope for it. It would change very little. He would not be what Thor needed and, Loki reflected hollowly, Loki wasn’t particularly doing everything that he knew could help for him.

The phone rang. Loki closed his eyes. For a flash of a moment he thought of how lucky animals were, that they had no souls to worry about. He picked up the phone.

“Hello?” he said.

“Rise and shine,” said Sam.

“The sun has been out since four this morning,” said Loki.

“You don’t act like it has been,” said Sam. “Get your ass over to the hotel lobby. We’ve got some people you should meet.”

“You sound to be in a better mood,” Loki said.

“Good night’s sleep does wonders,” said Sam.

Loki did not get much sleep last night but he still doubted that that was the power that defeated the Soul Gem.

“I’ll be there shortly,” Loki said.

“Well, make a move on it,” said Sam. “Considering you’re the one who actually got the hotel room.”

Loki put down the phone. After cleaning himself up enough to be presentable, he made his way to the hotel lobby. Sitting in the plush chairs by the front desk was Tony, Natasha, Steve, Sam, and two others who Loki did not recognise. His attention, however, immediately caught at first that T’Challa was not among them—nor was the sword.

“Where’s Tyrfing?” said Loki.

“We’ve asked a favour from a friend to take care of it,” Tony said. “Or rather, an associate, to be more accurate.”

“Doesn’t the king have it?” said Loki.

“You really think Wakanda is going to worry themselves over something that has nothing to do with them?” said Natasha. “T’Challa has no obligation to help us out on this. It’s our problem right now.”

“That isn’t comforting,” said Loki. “Why isn’t it with you?”

“Calm down, it’s not a baby,” said Tony. “It’s in Selvig’s laboratory. I pulled some strings, dropped some names—namely Thor’s—and he’s letting us use it until he gets back from his research in the States.”

Loki clenched his teeth. If Tony had not mentioned Thor’s name, Loki wouldn’t even have any recollection of who Selvig was, nor would he feel a heavy weight upon his mind. Seeking distraction, he turned to the two strangers on the sofa—one was a purple man for a lack of more complicated distraction, and the other was a young woman. They too turned to him—the moment they made eye contact, Loki felt a sudden twinge in his nerves, as if his insides accidentally touched scalding water and tried to jump back in pain.

That force. He remembered that force. The Other had made sure of it.

His gaze immediately flickered to the purple man’s forehead. He didn’t see anything, but his breath hitched.

“Baldur,” said Natasha. “This is Vision and Wanda. They’re the ones we told you about earlier.”

Loki didn’t speak. He felt a lump suddenly form in his throat. His limbs hurt.

“Pleasure,” he said, when he finally formed a voice. He smiled.

Wanda flashed a shy, unconvinced smile. Vision nodded in acknowledgement. He remembered briefly that they said that Vision could lift Mjolnir. He wanted to laugh.

“So,” said Loki. “Tyrfing. Had its energy levels at all subsided?”

“Negative,” said Tony. “On the contrary, its stats have been skyrocketing.”

“And you left it unaccompanied in some man’s laboratory when people other than yourselves want to track it down and steal it?” said Loki.

“O ye of little faith,” said Tony. “I’ve been at the lab all night, trying to do tests on it.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. Tony, now that he looked at him, looked as if he had just come out of Hela’s company as one of the raised dead in her army. The colour looked sapped out of even his dark hair and eyes.

“This is news to me,” said Natasha, raising an eyebrow at him. “You said you were getting yourself a room here.”

“Why didn’t you bring me in as well?” demanded Loki. “How much can one person do alone?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tony said. “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Loki set his jaw.

“Well?” he said. “Did you get any new reads?”

“Well,” said Tony. “I put the suit on against it, and even tried using a bit of vibranium to take a nick at the scabbard. No such luck.”

“Sorry, were you running tests or just trying to bomb the sword with anything you’ve got?” said Sam.

“The definition of experimentation, Wilson, is to prove or disprove a theory, if you remember third grade at all,” said Tony. “I had a theory that maybe the suit would blast the sword into oblivion. I disproved it. Science.”

“And you think they—” Loki jerked his head toward Vision and Wanda. “—will lend any hand to your science?”

“I’ve accepted at this point that magic and science are going to be a part of my life by now,” said Tony.

“Vision’s basically a walking Mind Gem,” said Sam, “and Wanda’s powers came from Loki’s staff whenever HYDRA had its hand on it.”

Loki turned sharply to Wanda. She seemed to back away from his sudden gaze, as if terrified. But Loki knew better; she did not break eye contact with him.

“Now how did they manage that?” said Loki.

“I can assure you,” she said. He did not recognise her accent, “that it was far from easy.”

Her gaze was distant, in that she focused on him as if trying to make him out from several hundred meters away, her eyes slightly squinting just to get a focus on him. He returned the gaze, challengingly.

“Then we have no reason to waste more time,” Loki said.

The car ride to Selvig’s laboratory was a hassle, owing to the fact that even Tony Stark did not own Lambourghinis in Norway for his disposal, and Natasha barred anyone from bothering T’Challa to borrow another one of his security cars (“We’re barely friends and hardly even allies,” was her reasoning). Tony finally relented in paying for everyone’s cab ride, and they eventually made it to the University of Oslo campus where they kept Tyrfing. Loki was stuck in a cab ride with Tony, who didn’t say a single word through the trip, and Vision, whose attempts of small talk were met with silence from everyone in the cab. Loki had no intentions of making conversation with a robot who could lift Mjolnir because the universe’s idea of worthiness was specifically in the realm of purple metal.

“So you keep the sword here?” Loki said, as Tony fumbled with the security pass to gain access to the university buildings. “Where thousands of young adults are easily influenced by it?”

“They aren’t going anywhere near it,” Tony said. “Unless you’re saying the entire town of Lofoten was constantly in a shit mood because this sword was sticking out of its mountains.”

Selvig’s lab was small, taking up only a single floor of the building, and was no more impressive. Filing cabinets formed the walls and telescopes of ranging sizes, calculators, shelves, were all shoved to one side of the room while the actual laboratory occupied the other. Tony had left Tyrfing in a complementary gas hood, which made Loki wrinkle his nose.

“So you couldn’t leave a single mark on the scabbard?” said Vision as Tony extracted it from the gas hood.

“We’re going to have to take it out if we want to do anything to it,” said Tony.

“Should you be touching that?” said Sam.

“For the last time, we don’t give a damn about historical evidence.”

“No, I’m saying—you just said that you measured its energy levels skyrocketing just now,” said Sam. “If you touch it—”

Tony held it out with his hands, almost as if to show off its lack of effect.

“Relax,” said Tony. “It’s fine.”

“We should all be more careful,” Steve said.

“I’m not using it to play golf,” said Tony.

“I can see that,” said Steve. “But we’re dealing with a sword that is cursed to kill.”

“If you unsheathe it,” said Tony. He frowned at Steve. “We know that already. You know I do.”

“The light,” said Vision. “It’s got a strange light to it.”

Tony and Steve turned to Vision, bewildered.

“What?” said Tony.

“I think the sword is emitting its own light,” Vision said. “It’s reflecting off your eyes, Mr. Stark.”

Tony jerked back, as if Vision had just announced his undying attraction to him. Vision, unperturbed, reached out a hand.

“Mind if I take a look?” Vision said.

“None of you should handle it,” said Loki.

He did not mean to sound so harsh when he said it, but he did not care when he did. There was no reason to believe that anything with the Mind Gem in its head—or in its influence—should be trusted anywhere near the Soul Gem. The Mind Gem could harness destruction and control, Loki knew very well, and had at one point lusted over when Thanos promised that it would give him everything he needed, everything he lacked. He had no intentions of working together with a walking Infinity Stone when he was on a mission to destroy them.

But before Vision could place his hand on the sword, the sword violently shook. Tony dropped it out of shock onto the table, where it rattled as if the entire building was experiencing an earthquake. Loki suddenly gasped in pain—he felt as if his blood was boiling in his hands. He tried to back away and nearly stumbled into Wanda.

“What are you doing to it?” Sam said.

Vision took a step back. The sword’s shuddering lessened, but it still rattled on the metal table until Tony clamped a hand over it to keep it quiet. Suddenly, even Loki saw it too—Tony’s eyes flashed green momentarily.

“Stark,” said Loki. “Keep away from it.”

Tony kept his head bent low. He shook his head vigorously before finally taking a deep breath in and stepping away from the sword. The sword continued shaking, until Loki took it up and threw it back into the gas hood, slamming the cover closed behind it.

“What the hell was all that?” said Sam.

“I didn’t intentionally do anything to it,” said Vision. “But I still must have agitated it.”

“Is it because you’ve got the Stone in your head?” said Steve. “Do Infinity Stones usually react to each other this way?”

“This isn’t just any stone,” said Loki. “This is the most corrupt of the stones. It wants to take humanity’s souls—if you’re as metallic as they say maybe it is intimidated by the fact that you don’t have one.”

Maybe it was a bit mean-spirited to say—although he couldn’t imagine Vision having any kind of soul any better than he can imagine the Destroyer having had one, although he could say the same for himself. Vision looked down, stung, while Wanda raised her voice in defence.

“If that were the case the sword would react that badly to the wallpaper,” she said.

“Considering Vision can lift Mjolnir, the Mind Gem in him is probably the yin to this stone’s yang,” said Tony. “Good repels bad. Light repels dark. Yada yada.”

“I don’t see how Mjolnir would have anything to do with this,” Loki said coldly.

“When Vision first came into being, Thor struck him with some lightning and Vision imprinted on him,” Sam said, unnecessarily in Loki’s point of view. “He probably is worthy enough to lift Mjolnir because of that.”

Loki felt a twinge in his heart. A touch of Thor, he thought bitterly, all the while his chest felt a strange hurt that he couldn’t identify. He didn’t like hearing about Thor second-hand, he thought fiercely. It felt unnatural, and it was uncomfortable.

“Which makes the Mind Gem worthy,” said Sam. “Which is probably what is freaking the Soul Gem out so much. Worthy, good, noble, et cetera, versus that nightmare of a stone.”

“Hm,” Loki said.

“Maybe it would make the Soul Gem malfunction,” said Wanda.

“I think I put it on the edge more,” said Vision. The sword still jerked every now and then in the gas hood.

“I think we should abstain from giving you that much credit,” Loki said.

Vision turned quizzically at Loki. Tony made a sound of offense. Loki ignored them all; he had no qualms of being rude to a machine, much less a machine that Thor had created.

Wanda glared at him. Loki turned to her, a retort quick on his lips. Then, he felt a prick in his head—like his thoughts were suddenly churning like the making of a storm. It was a familiar, sickening feeling.

Wanda’s lips pressed together. His ire flared.

Get _out_.

He mustered all his mental strength and shoved the external force from his mind. Wanda’s shoulders hunched suddenly.

“What about Wanda?” said Sam. “Can you read into the stone’s head like you did with Vision and the Mind Gem that one time?”

Wanda shook her head, pretending she had not engaged in some sort of silent battle with Loki.

“The key word here is ‘mind,’ Sam,” said Wanda.

“What if you unsheathe it from a distance?” said Steve. “Then technically no one is handling it, and we’re not anywhere near it.”

“Shall I?” Wanda said, rolling up her sleeves.

Before Loki could hint that he found the idea ludicrous, and what did anyone expect from a young mortal woman who looked like she wasn’t a day over a hundred and thirty yet, Wanda raised her hands. The sword suddenly glowed red, rising from the table and hovering in the air in the gas hood. Loki felt a sudden surge of nostalgia, if not jealousy.

“I can’t pull it apart,” Wanda said, her face screwing in the effort. “It’s stuck.”

“How is this murderous sword supposed to get anything done if it won’t murder anyone?” said Natasha.

“Easy there, eager beaver,” said Tony.

“Tyrfing won’t reveal itself for just anyone,” Loki said.

“Oh, great,” said Tony. “Another if he be worthy credential. How many Herculean tasks do we have to accomplish to get anything to work for us?”

“It hungers for souls, doesn’t it?” Loki said. “It corrupts souls in the process. Not just the ones it takes...”

His voice trailed off. He ran a hand over his forehead. He needed space to think, where he didn’t have to worry about keeping up appearances with the Avengers. Truly, the sword was stubborn in his sheath even when he handled it, and yet the Soul Gem was exercising its influence on all of them in its inexplicably powerful way. What more did they need to sacrifice in order to reveal the Soul Gem, in order to unleash its horror?

“I need to think,” said Loki. “It won’t be so easy as just wanting to unsheathe it. I need to think.”

“Is unsheathing it the only way?” said Sam. “There’s got to be a less fatal flaw to this plan.”

“Quiet,” said Loki.

Ek á neinn kostr. I have no other choice. That was what Surtr had let slip to Loki on how to unearth Tyrfing. I have no other choice. Loki took in a deep breath.

“Just a moment,” he said.

He stepped out of the room before any of the Avengers could follow him. He didn’t stop to think that they may do something stupid if he was not around. He burrowed himself into another room on the same floor as Erik’s study, slamming the door behind him and pacing, back and forth, back and forth.

Ek á neinn kostr. His hands shook. The seidr pathways that once streamed across his limbs stung, dry, parched. That was the cost for the knowledge. That was only a fraction of the cost. That Thor had to pay. Thor.

“I had no other choice,” he told himself.

No, his mind laughed. No, you certainly did. You could have just died and saved everyone the trouble. But selfishness has always been your forte.

I had no other choice, he pleaded. Except he had had many choices in life, each one that led him to this wretched point, with a deadbeat brother and a destitute destiny and a grudge on every single person on this floor. I have no other choice, he thought, but to destroy Tyrfing, because there was nothing else in this life that he could do to make up for everything that he had become (to Thor).

There was a knock on the door. Loki jumped. He realised just then that his hands were shaking, and so were his shoulders, and knees, and jaw, and teeth. He gripped his fists and immediately made his way to the computer on the desk in the room, pretending he was engrossed in some study of the blank Paint file that he haphazardly pulled up when Wanda opened the door.

She slipped in quietly, closing the door behind him. He did not remember actually giving her his permission to enter, but it didn’t matter. She had no reason to respect a stranger. He had no reason to care for it from her.

“I know that you are lying,” Wanda said.

Loki carefully busied himself with the computers. The Other’s infiltration into his mind via the Mind Gem was not unfamiliar to him. This walking sceptre of a mortal girl was no different.

“Good for you,” Loki said.

He suddenly felt a force violent take him by the shoulders and spin him around to face her. There was red, smoky light wrapping around her fingers, around him. Fighting the urge to snarl, he smiled spitefully instead.

“Show off,” he said.

“You aren’t just some Norwegian archaeologist that they picked up from the street,” said Wanda. “You aren’t really someone named Baldur. I know that much.”

“Oh?” Loki said. “Is that all? Tell me, what more do you know?”

Wanda set her jaw. Immediately, he felt the tendrils of another force in his mind, and with both desperation and pure relish, he shoved it out until she stumbled back against the desk. Loki tutted.

“That’s cheating,” he said.

“You can do it too?” she said.

Her eyes were wide, nervous if not a little bit intrigued. Loki reminded himself not to bask in it, and that he _didn’t_ want people knowing who he was at this point in time.

“Molecular manipulation,” he said, shaking her red magic off of his hands as if it were dust. “Telepathy. Telekinesis, too, while we are at it. It must have hurt a lot when they used the sceptre on you for such things.”

Wanda stood up straight, her jaw clenched.

“I did not come here to talk about this with you,” she said.

“Did you prefer to threaten me instead?” said Loki. “Perhaps I’m not Baldur. But I’m helping your lot so I don’t see what the fuss is all about.”

“No one hides their identity for no reason,” said Wanda. “What are you planning?”

Loki raised his eyebrows at her.

“I can assure you that it wouldn’t make a difference,” Loki said. His eyes flickered to her hands. “How much can you move with your powers?”

“I don’t see why I should tell you anything in return,” said Wanda.

Loki felt the corner of his lips twitch upward.

“Did you have to learn how to use your powers all by yourself?” said Loki. “Have you mastered complete control?”

Wanda opened her mouth, then closed it. She took in a breath.

“No,” she said.

Loki hummed.

“You’re honest,” he said. “Brave of you.”

“That makes one of us, at least,” said Wanda.

“How much do you know?” said Loki.

Wanda’s gaze flickered to the door. To Loki’s surprise, she walked over and locked it.

“Doesn’t seem wise,” he said.

“I’m not the one who is at risk of running away,” said Wanda.

Loki snorted softly.

“Do you really think yourself intimidating?” said Loki.

“You wouldn’t run because of me,” said Wanda. “I’m sure you are capable enough to hold your own.”

Loki found himself a little stunned. She sized him up, keeping her stance firm and her stare penetrating.

“You’re Loki, aren’t you?” said Wanda. “I’ve heard about you. And—I’ve seen you.”

Loki furrowed his eyebrows.

“What?” he said. “On your television?”

“Not exactly,” said Wanda.

He waited for her to explain, but she did not.

“You gathered all that from one prick into my mind?” said Loki. He felt his own smile grow more feral. “You could rival the Other.”

“I know _some_ things about how to use my power,” she said.

“I didn’t mean that as a compliment,” Loki said.

True to his word, burning hatred rose in him at the sight of her. He didn’t care if she was not the Other. He didn’t care if she used her powers for good or for evil. All that mattered was that she had them, and that alone made his stomach curdle with memories that grew putrid over the years.

“What did you see in me to deduce that?” said Loki.

Wanda raised her chin a little higher.

“I saw Thor,” she said.

Loki’s breath hitched. Of course, his thoughts snarled. Of course, he is nothing without Thor. Without Thor, he was inconsequential. Without Thor, there wouldn’t be a single damn thought of his own in his mind to call his own, because whether he was loving Thor or hating Thor, cursing Thor or worrying about him, it was all in regards to Thor.

“Not the answer I was hoping to hear,” Loki said.

She did not respond. Loki advanced towards her challengingly. Her fingers twitched, but she kept her magic reined in.

“You want to tell them, then?” said Loki. “Your fellow Avengers?”

“I do not want to put them in any danger,” said Wanda.

“You won’t have to worry about them,” said Loki. “I’d challenge you, then, to abstain from putting me in danger.”

Wanda frowned. Loki, in a gesture of peacekeeping, lowered himself on one of the computer chairs at the desk, maintaining a solid gaze.

“That was your sceptre, then?” said Wanda. “That made me like—this.”

“Do you hate it?” said Loki.

Wanda gave an empty laugh.

“It doesn’t make a difference whether I do or not,” she said. “I have them. And I might as well use them.”

“You talk of it like it’s a curse,” said Loki.

“It came from a cursed reason,” said Wanda. She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “It is too generous to call it a blessing.”

“Nonsense,” said Loki. “You just have yet to master it.” His heart skipped a beat, suddenly. “Keep my secret, and I’ll show you.”

Wanda’s shoulders suddenly tensed. Loki’s nerves jolted with anticipation for her answer.

“You’re stupid if you think you’ll tame me with that,” said Wanda.

“I have no need to tame you,” said Loki. “You’re the one who wants to tame your own gifts.”

Wanda looked away. Loki scarcely breathed. He kept his smile light, his voice casual, but in reality, she held far more power in this dynamic than she did. He could not afford to let the Avengers know his identity, and between the two of them, she actually had her powers.

“How much can you teach me?” she said.

“Ah,” Loki said. “You must have lost a great deal of control before, haven’t you?”

“That’s enough,” said Wanda. “I may want to learn more control, but I don’t have to learn it from an ass.”

Loki laughed.

“Very fair,” he said.

He had never had a student before. He had learned his arts from Frigga, and was never in a position where anyone wanted to learn seidr, much less from him. Wanda, he noted grimly, had a great amount of power, even more so if she tapped her unfulfilled potential.

“Show me, then,” Wanda said. “If you’re as gifted as they say.”

“Just like that?” said Loki. “I thought you were going to demand that I uphold the virtue of honesty.”

“Do you plan on hiding your identity for so long?” said Wanda. “Unless you think that we will only take a matter of hours to destroy this sword. You think you can fake it but the truth will come out. It always will.”

Loki cracked a smile. He would have laughed, from the sheer irony, if only there was anything remotely victorious about it.

“I know that well enough, Ms Maximoff,” said Loki. “I could only hope it were true.”

The words were hollow, so they crumbled, brittle, in his mouth. He brushed it aside, as there were far more pleasing, distracting matters at hand.

“Well, then,” he said. “While we are at it, show me what you can do.”

 

Eir peeled back the bandages. She tutted.

“Prince Loki,” she said.

Loki’s hands were still mangled. Loki did not see the problem.

“You come to the healing ward when we call for you,” said Eir. “And yet you refuse to be healed.”

“I can’t help it,” said Loki.

“Yes, you can,” said Eir.

She ran her careful fingers over Loki’s. He could feel the crusted grooves of the burns in higher definition when she touched them.

“Your seidr,” said Eir. She looked up to match his gaze. “You need it to heal your hands.”

“I can’t—”

“You still have it, Prince Loki,” Eir said. “It may hurt at first, but you still have it.”

“I don’t,” Loki said. “Do not mock me.”

Eir took in a deep breath.

“There is little else I can do for you if you refuse to relinquish your seidr,” said Eir.

Loki wanted to wring her neck with his gnarled hands. He had nothing to relinquish. He had lost his seidr the moment Surtr sapped the oxygen out of his lungs, sank fire into his veins. If he had had his seidr, wouldn’t he have done more to help Thor? He wanted to spit that right out at Eir. Wouldn’t she think he could have saved all of them if he still had his seidr, rather than manage only to scrape himself and Thor out of the disaster with only their lives?

“What about Thor?” said Loki.

“What of him?” said Eir.

“Never mind,” said Loki.

Thor had decreed that Loki could not go anywhere without his supervision—for ‘healing,’ for ‘security,’ for punishment. It did not matter; Thor was never anywhere to be found. Going off on missions, on diplomatic visits, on responsibilities that Thor used to make faces at when they were younger because they were unexciting and frustrating. Going off to lead armies against forces pressing against Asgard’s walls, to hunt down enemies, to protect the city, responsibilities that used to make Thor grin when they were younger because they were tempting, invigorating, effective. So Loki was wrangled with the supervision of the Warriors Three or Sif, because he was still neither a prince nor a criminal, more a foreigner than a slave.

“So,” Loki said, when Sif entered the room in which Loki kept to himself most of the time—that was, Thor’s. The library was useless at this point in his life, and he hardly had chambers of his own anymore—he had not done spring cleaning yet, so he had yet to clean the old memories out from under the bed and from the shelves before they started to rot. “It’s your turn to be saddled with me.”

Sif said nothing. She only paced through the room, as if she had something to do other than to make sure Loki hadn’t tried causing any more trouble than he already had. She kept her shield with her, and judging by the tenseness of her hand, she expected to use it.

Loki took it as a compliment. He had no seidr left in him, and his hands looked as if Surtr had tried to eat him alive. It felt nice to be feared, still.

“I see that the journey had done nothing to your insufferable character,” Sif said.

Loki laughed.

“It would take a little more than a journey through Yggdrasil to ruin my charm,” he said.

“The Void seems to have done the trick already,” Sif said.

Loki bristled. That was not something for Sif to talk about so freely. It wasn’t hers to mention.

Her gaze fell to his hands, which busied itself on the maps that Loki had strewn across Thor’s table, with no intention of tidying up after he was done. Loki did not move them out of the way—he was ashamed of them, which was why he kept them incredibly still, so that no one else would realise it.

“Did Thor bother to tell you where he was off to this time?” Loki said.

“He isn’t away,” said Sif.

Loki looked up.

“You mean—”

“He had returned from fighting the renegade factions outside of the city just several hours ago,” said Sif.

Loki swallowed.

“He neglected to inform me,” he said. “I thought that he would pick back up his duties of being my ward.”

Loki knew better than to be offended, than to feel slighted by Thor’s silence and absence. He also hardly ever did what he knew was better for him.

“How is he?” he said.

“Well, I hope,” Sif said.

Loki frowned.

“You hope?” she said.

“I have yet to see him,” she said. “He is in his study, busy. He has refused anyone’s company.”

Loki opened his mouth, then closed it. He had no intentions of flattering Sif, but he could not imagine any situation in which Thor would refuse her company. Judging by the way Sif’s voice faltered, she could not either.

“Loki,” said Sif.

Loki turned to her. Her gaze was as steely as her sword. Surprisingly, they were not sharpened against him. Instead, they were whetted with worry.

“What were you, Thor, and Jane Foster doing through Yggdrasil?” she said.

Loki smiled.

“Now I know that Thor had informed you of at least that beforehand,” he said.

“And yet you return with none of the Infinity Stones that you were searching for,” she said.

“Not without effort,” Loki said, raising an eyebrow. “And we _know_ where the Soul Gem is. It is on Midgard. Surtr had—”

“Then have you halted?” said Sif. “If Thor needs to send others, if he is too occupied—”

“Then I’m sure that you would come bounding to his call of duty like a hunting dog,” said Loki.

“More than you would do,” Sif said harshly.

Loki spread out his hands before him for Sif to see the sickening skin.

“I have not done _nothing_ either, Lady Sif,” he said, trying not to sound as stung as he felt.

“And what have you done for Thor now?” said Sif. “He has changed—he is nothing like he was before—”

“You think I have a blind eye towards that?” said Loki. “Just because I do not coddle him like you do in times of trouble—”

“Nor do you do anything of value,” said Sif. “He’s a shell of who he is now, and you have only harsh words for him, but nothing near to all the words you’d rather use on yourself.”

Loki clenched his teeth. He did not do nothing for Thor—but true, his words for Thor were usually harsh, jagged, demanding that Thor see the truth and the light, that he stop sleeping as if dead while walking. It was not that grief did not suit Thor, but even when Frigga had died Thor would at least speak out loud, rather than this crumbled hollowness that echoed rather than respond.

“I can assure you,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “that my ineffectiveness has nothing to do with lack of effort.”

“Then what has changed Thor?” said Sif. Finally, her harshness cracked just a little, to reveal the fear behind the fury. She edged closer to Loki, as if she could find some sort of kinship in their confusion of Thor. “He does not talk or eat or sleep—we all can see it and yet he denies it—he does not speak of any of this to anyone.”

Loki almost felt a warm wave of nostalgia. Seldom was a time in their youth when Sif would come to Loki and vent about Thor’s flaws—nothing compared to what she must vent about Loki’s in the privacy of the Warriors Three, but even Sif would whinge about Thor’s abrasiveness or lack of tact, and even in the past Loki felt some sort of easy closeness that he could have some sort of secret companionship with Thor’s friends that Thor did not have. But it was a short-lived victory, because Thor was dying and Thor was the only one who could not see it.

“You should know,” said Sif. “You took the journey with him. Ever since he returned from Midgard to bring Jane Foster back home—”

“Excuse me?” said Loki.

A cold chill ran down his spine. When realisation fell into place, it was soon followed by burning fury.

“Returning Jane Foster to Midgard?” said Loki. “Is that what he told you?”

Sif nodded, taken aback by Loki’s sudden lashing out. He immediately stood from his seat, heading straight for the door.

“Loki—”

“I have some words for my dear brother,” Loki said.

She tried to pull him back, but he wrenched his arm away from her and made his way towards Thor’s study. He did not bother knocking. He did not entitle himself to Thor’s intimacy, per se, but rather, he would have no qualms of robbing Thor of it.

“Thor—” Loki started, and then stopped.

Thor’s armour was discarded at the side, which was fitting enough considering that they were stained with blood. Thor’s tunic too was worse for the wear, and he was trying to balance healing balms, runes, and stones in his hand as he applied to his own wounds across his stomach, his arms, his face. He looked as if a lindworm had use him as a toy. When Loki burst into the room, Thor jumped, and his face of shock settled into indignation. Loki did not give him a chance to express it as a lump formed in his throat. Well enough, Sif had said.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Loki said.

“Loki—” said Thor.

Loki strode forward, wrenching the runes and bandages from Thor’s hands. He took a penknife and whittled at the runes, correcting the strokes, adding letters to improve the lettering. Thor watched silently, resigned.

“I thought your seidr was gone,” Thor said.

“You need a brain for runes, not seidr,” said Loki. “Clearly you lack both.”

Loki’s hands shook. The bloody gash on Thor’s body looked deep. Well, Sif had said, she had hoped.

“Eir is a physician, you know,” Loki said.

“Give those to me,” Thor said. “I will not bother you.”

Loki pulled away from Thor’s reaching hands, nearly slapping the rune onto Thor’s wound and wrapping bandages around it. He was careful not to wrap too tightly or too lose, and he could feel the rune go hot under the wrappings.

He did not forget to be angry with Thor, however.

“I know you hate physicians and healers and all things related to health,” said Loki. “But this is irresponsible.”

“I could handle it myself,” Thor said.

“Your rune would have only closed the wound and hoped for the best,” Loki said. “If it were not for my additions, your wound would not be disinfected, nor replenish the blood you lost.”

“I could have handled it—”

“Why have you become a liar?” Loki said.

Thor stopped, taken aback. Loki pushed himself away from Thor, as if to get a better look at the lie that Thor made of himself.

“You told Sif that we had returned Jane to Earth,” said Loki. “Why?”

Thor’s gaze hardened.

“My choices are my own,” said Thor.

“No wonder no one understands why you are unrecognisable now,” said Loki. “I thought Sif was your friend.”

“Why do you say it like you doubt it?” said Thor.

“Because you are lying to her,” said Loki. “And I don’t give a damn about Sif’s sensitivities. This is more than you hiding the truth, you’ve created your own.”

Thor stood up from his seat. His arms were still bleeding, and Loki should have saved his fight for after Thor was tended to, but Loki was never tactful with his timing.

“You are the last one who should be criticising me,” said Thor.

“I do not lie to friends that I do not have,” Loki said. “You are avoiding your friends on Earth—for no reason I can understand—”

“I do not expect you to,” Thor said.

“You lie to your friends on Asgard, a good thanks to all that they are doing for you,” said Loki. “You avoid Eir when you are bleeding on your rug. All for what?”

“They have enough worries,” Thor said. “Enough to deal with. I can handle myself—”

“So your mortal woman is dead!” said Loki. “The least you could do is throw a chair.”

Thor gripped his fists. Loki felt the thrill of saying the exact wrong thing. Jane Foster was nothing but ash—and Thor pretended nothing was ever, ever wrong. And yet it bled from him, that grief he bottled up, he refused to let it come out of his eyes so it bled into his skin instead, until it was bleeding through his wounds like he had to cut himself open in order to grieve properly.

“You have no right to talk,” Thor said quietly.

Loki gritted his teeth. In the back of his mind, he felt a twitch of panic. He feared how much Thor secretly knew. He tried to continue—he stumbled.

“You have no reason to lie,” said Loki.

“I will not worry my companions,” Thor said. He turned away, pulling the armour from the ground. It looked pathetic. “Nor will I lessen my responsibilities to Asgard.”

“Oh, I see,” said Loki. “So you’re being _noble_.”

“I do not have the luxury of throwing my furniture around my cell like you have,” Thor snapped.

Loki clenched his jaw.

“You have the luxury of people who would care if you did,” Loki said.

“Exactly,” Thor said. “I can handle this on my own.”

He picked up his knife and the other stones to whittle out runes. Loki watched as Thor fumbled, carving the wrong words into the wrong sorts of stones. Thor was never a fool. He fought on the battlefield countless times, he had to patch up his own wounds as well as many others. He was not ignorant, he was just careless now.

“Do you want me to wrestle you singlehandedly from the edge?” Loki said.

His voice shook with anger. Maybe with a bit of fear, because he didn’t want to know Thor’s answer.

“I would not ask that of you,” Thor said. After a moment, though, he spoke again. “Would you even try?”

Loki’s throat tightened. He was not a fisherman who would pull Thor up onto shore after a great fight. He had thrown himself over said edge, figurative or literal. He had no business trying. And yet, he wondered if he had any other choice.

“She’s dead, Thor,” Loki said. “And only you and I know it. How long will you keep the charade of being all right?”

“I am all right,” Thor said. His runes were all wrong. His arms were bleeding. He hurled himself into a battle and did not care about the outcome. “There is little that I cannot handle anymore.”

“Even the inevitable?” Loki said. “I don’t know why you think you are so strong. The truth will come out. You can hide it all you like, even after you think all is said and done, even after you think you’ve got it all under your control. You cannot stop it. Nothing can.”

“Then I would rather die trying than let it,” Thor said.

Loki felt his veins go hollow. All of a sudden that righteous anger finally gave away to the bottled fear that he tried not to think about, the fear that magnified itself with each drop of blood that Thor bled, the fear that would jump after Thor if he fell from the edge, even if the Void still terrified him. And the thing was that he believed Thor, every bit of him. Thor would sooner break down, or wither away into nothingness, before he would cry out in pain.

“I don’t want to see you die,” Loki said.

It was instinctual to say it. He would have cringed at his own honesty, or dramatics, and yet he said it, because in that moment he knew that Thor wouldn’t assume it. And when Thor stopped, when he was silent rather than arguing, when his expression softened, Loki knew that he had assumed correctly.

Thor set down his knife. Loki waited for some noble words, for a promise that Thor would not let it ever come to that, that Loki need not worry. Except that was the problem, and Loki realised belatedly that he was part of the problem. Thor would say just the right words to make sure no one would worry. And words, Loki knew better than anything else, were dirty bandages hiding an infected wound.

Thor reached to take Loki’s shoulder. He hesitated just at the last moment, and let his hand fall away just as his fingers grazed Loki. Loki held his breath. He was afraid. He wasn’t merely frustrated, he wasn’t only angry, indignant, determined to shake sense into Thor. He was terrified, because Thor was slowly killing himself and whether or not Thor knew it, Loki knew that he had done his part in it.

“Loki—” Thor started.

He did not continue. Loki shook his head. If all it took was for Loki to tell Thor that he did not want to see him die for Thor to feel just a little more loved, then Loki knew that he had failed, somewhere, somehow, a long time ago.

“Hand those over,” Loki said, pointing to the knife and runes. “Your carving work is hopeless.”


	8. Chapter 8

Steve could tell that Tony had only one cup of coffee to sustain him today. Not that Tony’s concentration was off—he had the durability of a camel in a drought, but also the good spirits of a swatted bee. A vein visibly bulged on the side of his neck when Steve entered the lab.

“I thought we were staying away from the sword for the time being,” said Steve.

“Not touching it,” said Tony.

He did not look up from his work, spread across two computers, a laptop, and several sheets of paper coated with illegible scribbles. Steve cast another glance at the sword, lying inanimate in the gas hood. Vision kept to himself two stories below, which evidently satiated the Soul Stone.

“What are you doing?” said Steve.

“Running tests,” said Tony. “If we can’t force it to open, then something has to make the sword give way. Not brute force, then maybe reactive elements.”

Steve pressed a hand against the glass pane of the gas hood. The sword had the aura of a dead specimen, stiff and filthy as everyone kept their distance. Decrepit enough to inspire doubt in Steve that it could actually kill someone if it tried.

“What can I do to help?” said Steve.

“I don’t need help,” said Tony.

Steve raised his eyebrows. Tony still did not make eye contact.

“I just reckoned that since there’s about seven of us we would be a little more coordinated,” said Steve.

“Well, none of you have a degree in the sciences, as far as I’m aware,” said Tony. “Normally I would ask Bruce if he’d like to have a go with something, but…”

He hesitated before shrugging. Steve picked up one of the pieces of paper on Tony’s desk. Tony’s shorthand—and messy handwriting—gave the impression that he had been writing down lottery numbers on about seven pages of a notebook.

“It’s a magical element,” said Steve. “Maybe it needs magic to function. Where’s Wanda?”

“Thought you’d know,” said Tony.

“We flew Wanda and Vision all the way to Norway to help us,” said Steve.

“With my money,” said Tony. “So they get a free vacation. I don’t see why they’d complain.”

Steve frowned. If Tony did not want Wanda or Vision around, he did not have to buy their plane tickets in the first place.

“And Natasha?” said Steve. “You came along with her under the UN’s orders.”

Tony laughed unconvincingly.

“Again. No degree in physics,” said Tony. “Pretty sure that she would opt not to have to work with me anyway.”

“You two _did_ come together under the UN’s orders, didn’t you?” said Steve. “What’s on your mind?”

“Are you trying to reach an epiphany?” said Tony. “Because rest assured, you don’t have to do it out loud.”

Steve sat down on the chair next to Tony. Tony rested his head in his hand, perhaps in concentration, but more to block Steve from his peripheral.

“I’ll just—figure it out on my own,” said Tony. “No point in getting anyone else involved.”

“No point in trying to do it on your own, either,” said Steve.

“Yeah, well,” Tony said. “That was my mind set back in the day.”

He typed, his fingers punching the keys like accusing gunshots in the silence. Steve felt the tension rise in him, the hypothetical finger pointing at him for some wrong Steve wanted to defend.

“Are you just going to watch me work?” Tony said.

“You aren’t going to let me do anything else,” said Steve.

“HYDRA doesn’t have its hands on it anymore,” said Tony. “So your job is done.”

“So is yours,” said Steve.

“Yeah, well, I’m qualified.”

“Official qualification doesn’t always get the job done.”

“Neither does sentimental value.”

Steve felt the back of his neck burn. He knew that Tony still hadn’t forgiven him for hiding the truth about Bucky’s involvement in his parents’ murders, and he had understood that wholeheartedly. And yet, a gnawing indignation pointed out that Steve was just trying to protect Bucky, at least he was trying to protect rather than _kill_ like Tony was bent on, and how many people had Tony killed in his past before he repented?

“You were all about staying together as a team,” said Steve. “What’s the matter with you now?”

“You were the one who chose one person over the entire team,” Tony shot back.

“I didn’t choose him over the team,” said Steve. “I chose him over you.”

Tony stilled. The silence between them was chilling, and Steve took several beats before he could feel badly for what he had said. Then he continued typing as if Steve had said nothing. Steve turned away, moments away from positively seething. Both avoiding eye contact, neither of them noticed how green their eyes were at this moment.

“If I’m the problem,” Tony said, finally breaking the silence, “just tell me. I’ll go solo. Whichever. Or I’ll donate the suits to science. Fine.”

“It’s too late for any of that now,” said Steve.

Tony threw himself into the back of his chair, pressing the heel of his hands against his eyes.

“You brought up the Sokovia Accords,” said Steve. “You gave us that ultimatum.”

Tony turned violently towards Steve. But before a snarl could rip himself from Tony’s mouth, he stopped, stunned, as if Steve had suddenly changed faces. Suddenly Steve felt as if he had been dreaming, and was just now doused in cold water, and the conversation that had just transpired between him and Tony replayed in his head in horrific high definition.

“I’m so sorry, Tony,” Steve said. Cold sweat pricked his hairline. He couldn’t even say that he did not feel like himself—he felt exactly the same, only more awake, more in control and aware enough to censor himself, or correct himself, but that was not always the case. “I don’t know—I don’t know why I thought I could have said any of that.”

Tony did not say anything. It only occurred to Steve just then that Tony was saying something about his eyes, but Steve could not be bothered now. He ran his hands over his face, as if trying to wash off the horrible spirit that had just possessed him now.

“You’re not the problem,” said Steve.

“I knew it before anyone even had to say it,” Tony said. “Don’t need to backpedal now.”

His voice was hollow. Steve felt sick.

“So if you’ll excuse me,” said Tony, cracking his knuckles. He switched gears as one who needed it to survive. “I have a redemption arc to fulfil.”

He moved back to his research, silent. Steve fought to correct himself, to apologise, but he couldn’t think of anything to say that would possibly make anything better.

“Bucky’s my best friend,” said Steve. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I know it doesn’t show. I know I keep hurting you, but—”

“Sorry,” said Tony. “But I need to concentrate.”

-

“Concentrate,” said Loki.

Wanda let out a loud huff, rather than the long, deep breath Loki was instructing her into taking. Loki raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t suppose you have the time to do this right before every battle,” Wanda said, irritated.

She and Loki were alone in the parking garage. Wanda had surreptitiously moved all the cars to one side of the lot, and a couple blocking the entrance so that no one would come in. Loki declined to give any indication that he was impressed by how much she could move at once. He sat against one of the pillars in the basement parking garage while Wanda stood in the open area, fuming.

“Only practise will make it come naturally,” said Loki. “At any given time, in the heat of the moment. Otherwise, you’ll make the amateur error of holding your breath during a strenuous task. Not useful. Asphyxiation isn’t a game changer in a duel.”

Wanda huffed again, blowing strands of her dark hair from her face. Loki crossed his arms.

“Doubt me?” said Loki. He nodded to one of the cars in its space. “Lift that.”

Wanda narrowed her eyes at him. Red light emitted from her hands, wrapping around the car and lifting it up from the ground.

“Keep holding it,” said Loki.

Wanda obliged, but after thirty seconds of it, she turned indignantly towards Loki.

“Is this some sort of discipline?” she said.

“No,” said Loki. “Although it’s rather effective, isn’t it?”

“You know, I could throw this at you,” she said.

“Oh, I do not doubt it,” said Loki. “But we are not training you in the art of aiming.”

Loki waited another few minutes. By then, Wanda’s arms were shaking, and she was muttering curses in her native tongue.

“Now, tell me,” said Loki. “Where are you deriving your powers to do this?”

Wanda said something inaudible.

“A little louder,” said Loki.

“My hands,” she spat, almost out of breath.

“I can see that,” said Loki. “They’re shaking.”

The car bobbed dangerously over Wanda’s head. She finally set the car down, taking in a deep breath as if she had been drowning.

“Show me your hands,” said Loki.

Wanda gritted her teeth, but she obliged, pulling up her sleeves. Loki stood up, taking her hands roughly and turning them around for his inspection. They were red and sweaty, and when he pressed down on the muscle at the thumb, she jerked back.

“I take it your arms hurt, too,” said Loki. “You’re physically lifting it without touching it. Not ineffective, but inefficient. Does your head hurt too?”

“Can’t you show me how it’s done?” said Wanda.

“I’d be dying to,” said Loki. “Unfortunately, it’s not an option. Does it?”

“A little,” said Wanda.

“A beginner’s mistake,” said Loki.

“Helpful,” said Wanda.

“Using telekinesis involves the mind, I won’t contradict that,” said Loki. “One needs total concentration when using the powers of the mind. You cannot afford distractions.”

“You weren’t exactly helping,” said Wanda.

Loki laughed.

“A conversation does not need to be distracting,” said Loki. “Otherwise, I doubt spies could really get anything done. Ask your friend, Agent Romanoff.”

“She’s not necessarily my friend,” said Wanda.

“Then ask your colleague. I’m not picky,” said Loki. “Here.”

He pushed Wanda’s shoulders back so that they straightened her posture.

“The important part of seidr,” said Loki, “is in the breath. It’s just like physical exercise. Breath keeps you grounded, keeps you balanced. Our instinct is to hold our breaths in a time of stress.”

Wanda watched him, both careful and cautious. Loki stood facing her, assuming the same stance as she. She unconsciously shifted the position of her feet to mirror his. He felt a surge of flattery.

“It is also our instinct to breathe down to the chest only,” said Loki. He placed a hand to his stomach. “But our deepest breath must come down from here. Hence the exercises.”

“This is like singing classes,” said Wanda.

“Then seidr is an opera,” said Loki. “It doesn’t rest only in our lungs. It is like our blood. It courses through us, it cycles, it flows. Breathing keeps that flow going. Without it, we drain ourselves quickly, tapping only a portion of our potential.”

“You say ‘we,’” said Wanda. “Are our powers the same?”

“It probably is not,” said Loki. Wanda scowled. “But the concept still remains the same. Your body, physical and magical, needs support and feedback. If you use it in spurts, they are powerful spurts, yes, but they will only last a little while.”

Wanda took in a deep breath in, deep breath out. Loki nodded. In the back of his mind, he leafed through years and years of old lessons that Frigga had coached him in with his seidr in his childhood, skimming it so that he would not recall the hollow pit that was a still-lingering grief. Frigga, he noted bitterly, probably would have been a better teacher.

“Right now, using your powers to move anything physical feels like physical exertion,” said Loki. “You even have to contort your limbs like an abused puppet to keep the form.”

“Excuse me,” Wanda said.

“With the breathing, you could use your powers with as little as a flick of the finger,” said Loki. “And not tear yourself apart in the effort.”

Wanda breathed in, breathed out. Then she frowned.

“Is that what happened to you, then?” said Wanda.

Loki paused.

“Presumptuous of you,” said Loki.

“I thought that you might use your own seidr to demonstrate to me,” said Wanda. “But you haven’t used it at all.”

“You’ve jumped a long distance to reach that conclusion,” said Loki.

“If you were just being difficult, you wouldn’t keep saying how you’d like to use your seidr, but presently won’t,” she said. “You’d probably just mock me.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. She wasn’t entirely wrong about that.

“Does that change your opinion of me as your teacher?” said Loki.

“Depends on your answer,” said Wanda. “Although, even if you did, I’d get to learn from your mistake, so.”

Loki snorted.

“We won’t get into that,” Loki said. “My seidr’s demise is unavoidable, so there is nothing to learn from it.”

Wanda frowned.

“Then,” she said. “What exactly was your plan with the sword if you got it alone?”

Loki admittedly had not thought that far into the future. He assumed he could destroy it out of sheer will, or at the very least, die trying. The truth was, without his seidr, there was little he could do against a piece of sentient rock.

“It doesn’t always use seidr to combat an Infinity Stone,” said Loki. “It seems to take other stones. The Mind Gem was what tampered the Tesseract in New York. Your caped friend seems to make Tyrfing irate. Not that I have other stones to my disposal, but.”

“How did you know where to find it?” said Wanda. When Loki squinted at her, she shrugged. “If I know your true identity, I might as well get as much as I can out of it.”

Loki’s jaw twitched.

“I asked its previous owner,” said Loki. When Wanda had a look of surprise, he continued. “Tyrfing has a long history, the Soul Gem even longer. With its notoriety of being a sword that never fails to kill, it is understandably coveted.”

“Who was its previous owner?” said Wanda.

Loki gave a short laugh. Surtr’s fire had long left its mark on him. And it burned a hole into Thor.

“A crotchety old fellow,” said Loki. “Horrible person. Never ask anything from him, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

She gave a wry laugh. He almost complied with it.

“I take it that it wasn’t a dwarf like the stories say,” said Wanda.

“Dwarves like to claim the credit,” said Loki. “But this sword has a kinship with fire. At least—” Loki smiled grimly. Every time he can close to the sword, he felt that familiar burn in his body, as if his blood were oil and the sword was a lit match to catch him on fire. “That’s how I believe it.”

Wanda took in several more deep breaths. She then scarcely resisted casting another sidelong glance at Loki.

“Why _isn’t_ Thor coming around?” said Wanda.

Loki held his breath.

“It’s rude to talk out during a lesson,” said Loki.

“I’m exercising my concentration,” Wanda said cheekily.

Loki snorted.

“You can direct all inquiries for Thor to any raven within your proximity,” said Loki. “That would give you just as much of an answer as I would.”

“Does he know you’re here?” said Wanda.

“Just because you are blackmailing me does not mean that you are privy to all information,” said Loki.

“ _You_ came up with this compromise,” said Wanda. “If I wanted to blackmail you, I’d have asked for something a little more lucrative.”

“Oh? Are you ragging on my private lessons?”

“I’d have thrown in a lifetime supply of pierogis, and maybe my own dog,” said Wanda.

“Lucrative indeed,” Loki said. “But I still have no idea why Thor does not come for any of you. Only that he does not.”

Wanda continued her breathing exercise. Loki snapped to attention, remembering that he was not here to be honest.

“When you breathe, imagine your breath reaching all the way to the floor,” he said. “Wake up each inch of your body. You must keep your seidr accountable at every moment.”

He breathed in and out as well. He tried to reach for his own seidr. It retreated further from him. There was nothing but a padlocked door, a stone wall.

“You strain your muscles because you think it is required to accomplish your task,” said Loki. “You don’t trust in your seidr enough to let that pressure go.”

Wanda bit her lip. Loki could feel her power thrumming just below the surface. He had little reason to want to nurture it, other than to prove that he could. It would be a waste if he did not.

“When you don’t rely on your seidr, you tap into your own energy and life force. And you also suppress your seidr to wreak havoc internally,” said Loki. “All of that can lead to internal bleeding. Haemorrhages.”

“I get the point.”

“Nosebleeds.”

Wanda wrinkled her nose. Loki smiled in spite of himself.

“Try lifting the car again,” he said.

Wanda steadied her stance and concentrated on the car. She took in a deep breath, lifting her hands. Loki shoved down on her wrist.

“Not necessary,” he said. “If your enemy saw what you were doing, they would know what you were planning. You lose the element of surprise.”

“At least let me do it for placebo effect,” Wanda retorted.

Loki rolled his eyes. Wanda returned to her concentration, lifting her hands slowly. The car rose from the ground.

“Placebo effect done,” said Loki. “Put your hands down. I see the tension in all of your fingers.”

Wanda’s eyebrow twitched. She hesitated but finally lowered her hands. The car wavered.

“Careful,” said Loki.

“That’s very helpful,” said Wanda.

Her chest heaved with each breath as she settled her hands to her side, her eyes locked on the car. Loki tapped her elbow.

“There’s still tension there,” said Loki. “Honestly, considering how much you strain your muscles, are you sore after every task?”

“Shh,” Wanda said, narrowing her eyes at the car.

“Breath, all the way down,” said Loki. “Trust in your powers.”

Loki walked over until he stood right below the floating car. Wanda let out a sharp gasp, her limbs tautening immediately. The car jerked, nearly scraping the top of his head.

“Trust in your powers,” Loki said. “And you will not drop it on me.”

“Do you trust in them?” Wanda said.

“Why would I be standing here?” said Loki. “I’m not that suicidal.”

Wanda grimaced. She bit down on her lip until they grew white from the pressure. Her hands were shaking, as if fighting to be brought up.

“Breathe,” said Loki.

The car bobbed dangerously closer to his head. Loki kept himself planted where he stood. He knew that her powers were beyond enough to carry the car for as long as possible. He also knew that she did not believe that of herself.

“Breathe,” he said.

She nodded slowly. Limb by limb, she slowly released the pressure. The car’s bobbing stilled until it was held perfectly above his head. A relieved smile twitched on her lips, and when Loki nodded she gave herself permission to gasp in victory.

“Do you feel the difference?” Loki said.

Wanda didn’t answer. She was too busy now directing the car around, without needing to move her arms, sending it floating back and forth, slowly but surely. Her grin grew wider.

“Don’t get cocky,” said Loki as Wanda tried to spin the car like a top in mid-air, and instead sent it dropping onto its roof. She shrieked at the impact over the whining car alarm. “You have only just started learning.”

“They’re going to sue me!” she said.

“Are you a master of molecular manipulation or not?”

Wanda braced herself before carefully flipping the car back onto its tired and smoothing out the dents. She still had the ghosts of breathless ecstasy upon her face.

“Pietro used to make fun of me for the ways I had to contort myself like an acrobat,” she said. “If he could see me now.”

“Pietro?” said Loki.

Wanda’s smile softened.

“My brother,” she said.

A corner of Loki’s lips twitched upward.

“My brother used to make fun of me when I was beginning seidr as well,” he said.

Wanda raised her eyebrows curiously. Loki hesitated—he had not meant to talk about Thor so freely.

“He doesn’t have any magic, does he?” she said.

“Not if you count lightning,” said Loki. “And a very judgmental hammer.”

Wanda pursed her lips, her eyes narrowed in thought.

“He recognises magic well,” she said. “I remember—well, I had attacked him once, and he could tell quickly. Everyone else fell for it easily.”

“He ought to,” said Loki. “We were trained to withstand magic. The enemy has as much of it as we do.”

And it still did nothing to prepare Loki for what he found in the Void. Not that it mattered anymore. That was said and done. There was little use of begrudging anyone now, not when it took so much energy.

“How is he?” she said politely.

“You don’t care,” said Loki. “I doubt you know him very well at all.”

“The way that the others talk about him,” said Wanda. “It sounds like he’s…not well.”

Loki smiled ruefully. His heart clenched painfully, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be angry about it.

“He isn’t,” he said.

It felt good to say to Steve that his family was dead. It felt so difficult to say the truth out loud, instead. And yet, he had dreamt of it, somehow. To say the truth, and for someone to take it genuinely. Wanda didn’t give a damn about his life, and he didn’t give much of a damn for hers either. That was what made it so much easier—because if she was kind, it was not out of obligation. And if she was cruel, it was nothing personal.

“What do you mean?” said Wanda.

If she asked about anything else—about himself, about his own experiences, about his demons—he would say, that’s enough now, get back to work. But she was asking about Thor, who was becoming poison to Loki, who made his stomach sick and heart race and skin burn, and if he did not spit out this poison it would consume him.

“He doesn’t care if he dies,” said Loki. “He will play the hero just so that it could kill him in the process.” He smiled at Wanda. “And that’s not the end of it. Want more? I don’t mind spilling his secrets.”

Wanda shifted uncomfortably in her stance. Loki did not hold back.

“He also regrets any decision he has ever had of being emotionally attached to me,” said Loki. “Something I had warned him about.” And something that he had found himself regretting, himself. “He hates me, so I can’t say I know how he’s doing.”

Wanda crossed her arms. Loki didn’t hate telling her any of this. He did not know if he told her this to seek pity or attention. But he would not refuse either of them.

“Do you hate him?” said Wanda.

“Yes,” Loki said automatically.

Wanda did not say anything, but he could still see the thoughts racing behind her eyes. He turned away before he could confirm what exactly it was that she was thinking.

“Are you all right with that?” she said.

He shrugged. He was used to it in the Void. He was used to it now. It was easy to hate Thor. One just had to selfishly ignore him. There was relish in hating Thor. It meant that Loki did not have to take measures to care about him, which Thor didn’t even want in the first place, considering the position that they all were in now.

“Where is your brother now?” he said.

Wanda looked down. She shrugged a shoulder tiredly. It was enough for Loki to escape the limelight, even if he did not necessarily always mind it. Still, once he had said too much, he wanted to backpedal. He did not think it wise to talk of the ‘why’ of all of this.

“He died last year,” she said. “It was—I don’t know if you know anything about Ultron.”

Loki did not. He suddenly sobered—he had, after all, told Steve that he was suffering from a dead family. He hoped that Steve would not feel the need to share that cathartic lie with any of the other Avengers, because if anything, there would be at least one person who would reckon that wasn’t true.

Wanda took in a deep breath, surveying the garage as if there was something else that would take her attention.

“So,” she said. “What else can I practice with?”

“You’ve got a lot of potential,” Loki said.

“Sorry?” she said.

Loki struggled to say it again. It was not that he did not know the art of flattery. It was that he knew it too well, and genuineness was foreign to him.

“And you learn quickly,” he said. “You could probably start moving mountains at any rate.”

She turned to him, a look of surprise on her face.

“You don’t think so?” said Loki.

“I always knew I had a lot of power,” said Wanda. “I just didn’t think you’d be the type to compliment me.”

Loki snorted. Wanda gave a soft, self-conscious laugh.

“But thank you,” she said. “Really.”

Loki shrugged. He didn’t know why he had bothered to offer words of approval. It didn’t matter to him what her self-confidence level was. And yet.

“Let’s practise with something a little bigger,” said Loki. “How about we toss around a plane a little?”

-

Steve was not used to sleeplessness. He did not necessarily fall asleep at any position in a matter of seconds like some blessed people (Clint), but he rarely dabbled with insomnia either. He blamed it on the summer sun, whose rays still managed to peek through the heavy curtains by four in the morning. But even then, he still lay awake tossing and turning in the scarce dark hours, trying to be comfortable in the bottom bunk while knowing all of that was in vain when the real situation was that his mind wouldn’t stop thinking.

When he would first hit the pillow, as the sun finally began setting by midnight, he already knew whether he would get a decent night’s sleep or was left to his own mind’s mercy for the next eight hours by how charged his thoughts were. Caught by the littlest things, or sometimes the biggest things, he would lay for hours worrying about Bucky, about Thor, regretting Tony’s grudge towards him, regretting losing years that he could have had with Peggy, questioning his purpose now that he no longer carried the shield as Captain America.

And those worries and fears started mounting into resentments,  the longer he was left without sleep and his good nature—or whatever was left of it—disintegrated in the night. If they hadn’t sent him on that journey, he wouldn’t have been frozen, he wouldn’t have lost his whole life with Peggy and he could have saved Bucky before it was too late. If Tony hadn’t made his own decision with the Sokovia Accords, the team wouldn’t have been torn apart, because _everyone_ knew that Steve was right in the end except Tony. If Bucky had stayed put and stayed safe when he could have he wouldn’t have gotten captured and the fracture in the Avengers wouldn’t have happened. If—

And as the resentment built up the longer he was awake, the self-awareness and self-blame would fight for a spot, and he couldn’t rest his mind when he had a war inside of him. These were not thoughts that he did not have before—Baldur had expressed worry about the sword’s influence, but Steve was not naïve or so self-absorbed to blame his growing bitterness on an inanimate external object. These thoughts were not strangers to him. Only, he had not given them the time of day when they arose, and he left it that way. Now, it was like every single waking moment had to be dedicated to these bitter thoughts, and Steve had the luck to be an insomniac at this time.

Damn. Even Sam’s steady breathing of sleep on the bunk above him was enough to make Steve’s blood burn with frustration.

He just wanted to sleep, if only it would shut his own head up.

Steve kicked off the sheets and sat up, crouching so that his head would not hit the bottom of the top bunk. It was three thirty in the morning—through the crack of the heavy curtains he could see the sky paling with the returning sun. Steve thought back on the wasted hours and cursed.

So he changed clothes, silently locked the door behind him, and jogged to the city center. It was not a sensible hour to jog, but there were some perks of being a supersoldier, even if there were very few of them anymore.

By the time he reached the university campus, the sun had risen unrepentantly, and it was strange to see the day so bright and the city so dead, save the occasional car returning from wherever they had spent the night. He breathed heavily from the jog—his mind had drove him to finish the race, but the race had not done a single thing to tire out his mind. The burning lump in his throat still remained. He did not recall deciding to be such an unloving person.

He snuck into the building where Selvig’s laboratory was. Just down the hall, he could see that the light was already on. Steve hesitated; there was no good reason to see Tony at this hour, at this state. Not when there was no intercessor.

And yet he walked through the lab doors anyway, because he was not here for Tony, nor here for company. He did not know what drew him to the lab when he had little to go off of as far as understanding Tyrfing went, but it felt like the only productive thing he could do with his time at this hour, with so little sleep.

To his surprise, Tony was not in the lab. Instead, it was Vision who kept the lights on and kept his eye on the sword, papers in hand and Scandinavian pop playing on the radio to keep him company. Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Don’t you need sleep too?” said Steve.

Vision looked up, mildly surprised. He straightened out the pile of papers that he held in his hand.

“Not as much as you may,” said Vision. “Although it seems you require just as little.”

“More like I can only get this little,” said Steve.

Vision nodded to a coffee maker on Selvig’s desk at the corner of the lab. Steve shook his head.

“Doesn’t have an effect on me,” he said.

“Nor I,” said Vision. “Although the taste is all right. A little strong.”

“Try adding milk to it,” said Steve. “That might help.”

He leaned against the gas hood, purveying the sword. No one had touched it since they had thrown it behind the glass, although Wanda had twice sent the sword floating about the gas hood and doing twirls in the air as what she for some reason deemed as ‘practice.’

“What are you doing here?” said Steve. “Sam and Baldur keep saying how we shouldn’t be around the sword for so long.”

“I keep my distance,” said Vision. He pointed to the line of red duct tape he had made in the middle of the room. “If I cross this line, Tyrfing gets agitated. But I can still do some work while I can.”

“That’s not what I…never mind.”

Steve sat down on a chair in front of Tyrfing, as if the sword was a snake at the zoo exhibit and he was waiting for it to move.

“On the other hand,” said Vision. “From what I understand, Tyrfing would have adverse effects on the rest of you.”

“Maybe,” said Steve. “But I think I’m handling it.”

Steve crossed his arms. After a beat of silence, while Vision was refilling the coffee pot, Steve remembered that he and Vision had been in opposing sides the last time they had properly seen each other. He braced himself—he knew Vision’s reasoning had nothing to do with Bucky, unlike Tony’s, but it still stood that they had fought each other.

“How _is_ Rhodey?” said Steve.

“Partially paralyzed,” said Vision. “Although Tony has designed a body brace of sorts that could help him stand and support his weight.” Vision cast a curious glance at Steve. “You didn’t know?”

Steve didn’t realize the expression of surprise on his face until it had slid off.

“Tony and I don’t follow each other’s Twitters or anything,” said Steve. “Not going to get any of his updates.”

“Ah,” said Vision. “Rest assured, Rhodey is—getting better.”

“It isn’t Sam’s fault,” said Steve. Or mine, he wanted to add. “Tony needs to figure that out before he keeps ragging on him.”

“I don’t think Tony truly blames Sam the most,” Vision said softly.

Steve rubbed his eyes. Vision didn’t sound like he wanted to talk much about it, so neither did Steve.

“So do the Sokovia Accords still apply to you?” said Steve. “The UN only sent Tony and Natasha.”

“For preventative reasons,” said Vision. “I am kept for only worse measures. I like to think that I can be diplomatic, but my appearance alone…well, people assume that I am a walking weapon.”

“We all are,” said Steve.

“Yes,” Vision said with a smile. “But with beating hearts meant for something else. I—not so much.”

It was difficult to comprehend how Vision, who was keenly sensitive—perhaps more so than some of the Avengers—was more or less a computer that others will see as a weapon. He was not designed to be perfect, sparked by Thor’s thunder and a Mind Gem that had the nature to be destructive as much as it had the nature to be kind—and yet Steve felt inferior just standing there with Vision in the same room.

Steve pulled open the gas hood. Vision frowned.

“What are you doing?” said Vision.

“Nothing,” said Steve.

Each breath put more pressure on his chest. His gums hurt because he was clenching his teeth so much.

Vision took a step closer. His toes just skimmed the red tape on the floor. Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He did not know why.

He did know why. He was sleep-deprived, he was frustrated, he was bitter about being vilified for choosing Bucky, he was bitter that he had to try to take the higher ground, he was tired of being the super soldier who supported everyone even when his own knees buckled, he was guilty for feeling tired he was guilty that he felt so inferior because he was hurting more people than he was saving now. He was—

“ _Steve_!”

Tyrfing was in Steve’s hand before he could think about it. His heart burned immensely, and he pulled the sheath. It gave way.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for last chapter's feedback and encouragement!!! I'm honestly so touched that y'all are reading. I'm old hat at this point but I still love me some overly complicated plot hurdles and Loki angst. Enjoy!

There had been an explosion.

Because this was the science building on campus, everyone was taken off guard but no one was surprised. And because Wanda specialized in molecular manipulation, or however it was that Vision had described it, she could sweep in and hide the damage before any of the authorities could be genuinely concerned. By then, however, it became clear to everyone on campus that there was an accident in the labs, and that classes were cancelled.

Loki had gotten there before the others did. Tony may still have a tracker of Tyrfing’s energy levels downloaded in an app on his mobile, but Loki still could feel the Soul Gem’s spike in his nerves alone, and immediately sensed something was wrong in the middle of the (sleepless) night. He swore that his seidr was gone, but its ghost came in handy from time to time.

By the time he had reached the building, the laboratory was in shambles. Vision was shaking. He was hovering over Steve’s unmoving form. There was a terrible burn across Steve’s chest. The sight made Loki’s stomach turn.

“What the hell happened?” Loki said. He pointed to Steve’s injuries. “What did you do?”

Vision looked up, panicked. Loki felt his fury surge. He knew better than to trust Vision. He knew better than to ever work with Vision.

“The sword,” said Vision. “Steve had unsheathed the sword.”

Loki’s blood suddenly ran cold.

“And it did _this_ to him?” said Loki.

“I tried to stop him,” said Vision. “Just to knock the sword out of his hand. But my strength escaped me.”

Steve was unresponsive. Loki seethed—he knew that they were not being careful enough with Tyrfing. Then his heart skipped a beat. Then he felt that throbbing, unharnessed magic of the Infinity Gem like an earthquake in his nerves.

“Where’s Tyrfing?” said Loki.

“It flew out of his hands,” said Vision. “I do not know where. Baldur, please could you call the ambulance?”

“What for?” said Loki, overturning fallen shelves in search for the sword.

“Steve is injured—I burned him badly. Please, hurry.”

At the word ‘burn,’ Loki stopped short. He gritted his teeth; he would at any other moment largely ignore Vision when Tyrfing was on the line, but he liked fire no more than anyone else. He cursed loudly.

“Wait here,” he said.

He rushed out of the laboratory, bounding down the steps while Vision waited, under the assumption that Loki knew what number to call for the Norwegian ambulance when Loki had no patience to assume what an ambulance was. Runes worked regardless of the stones on which they were carved, but he had never tried using Midgardian rocks before. For all he knew, they were as futile as everything else on this planet.

He found a knife in one of the labs and several of Midgard’s least unappealing stones in one of the geology offices.  He whittled a hasty rune into the rock—the lines glowed as he connected the strokes, burning with the AEsir art of healing. He raced back to the lab, trying to think of any sort of excuse he could give Vision as to why he was using engraved rocks to help Steve. But it might be easier to think of a lie for that than the fact that he didn’t know what number to dial for his alleged community’s accidents and emergencies.

“Vision,” he said. “I’ll take care of Steve. You—you go find that sword.”

Vision hesitated, but he complied, rising from Steve’s side and moving through the rubble. Loki took in a deep breath. He crouched by Steve, shielding him from Vision’s view. Vision’s fire had scorched Steve’s chest, singing his shirt into black ash. Loki grimaced. He pressed the runes against Steve’s chest, bracing himself for the possibility that Midgardian rocks wouldn’t do the trick. They dissolved under his palm, but their burn was only lukewarm.

“Dammit,” Loki said.

He hastily took the knife up again to carve another rune—it may only do part of the job, but it was better than nothing. Vision was still moving around rubble to locate the sword. Loki’s heart beat rapidly.

“Captain,” Loki said.

Steve groaned, but did not wake up. Loki looked around—Vision may get suspicious if no help actually came. There was a risk in drawing more attention to this building, but there was also the risk of looking like a liar, which he was. Still, he didn’t know how much help his runes were, and if Steve died on his watch, it would probably worsen Thor’s situation, as well as his own. Of the original Avengers whom he met in New York, he probably begrudged Steve the least.

Then Vision said something that made Loki forego all intents of sounding an alarm to get others to call for help for him.

“He unsheathed the sword, Baldur,” Vision said. “The sheath’s gone.”

Loki’s stomach swooped. He turned sharply to Vision, who was holding up an overturned, scorched desk to reveal Tyrfing underneath. At the sight of the dark green stone in the blade, his breath hitched. It was just as intimidating and beautiful as he feared it would be.

“Get away from it, Vision,” Loki said. “Don’t touch it.” He swallowed hard, his mouth going very dry. “Go—go find the sheath instead.”

“Would we still be able to use it if it is unsheathed?” said Vision.

“No harm in trying,” Loki said, even though there very well could be. Even from here, he could see the swirling hues of the stone, just as Surtr had warned and as Thor had feared. He felt his hands shaking. “Hurry.”

His hand slipped as he was carving the rune. He cut open his thumb. He tried to calm himself down, but he couldn’t. He knew better than to assume that an Infinity Stone’s power was an exaggeration. He pressed the rune down on Steve’s chest, where it crumbled like foam into nothingness. Steve stirred.

There was the sound of bounding footsteps up the stairwell. Tony and Natasha were at the lab in minutes. When their gaze fell upon the scene, their reactions were from opposite spectrums—Tony stumbled, as if he had the air knocked out of him. Natasha stood stock still, her eyes measuring every inch of the scene as if to take down in the computer of a brain that she had.

“What the hell happened?” Tony said. “My phone just nearly exploded from the information overload on Tyrfing and then—”

“Tyrfing’s been unsheathed,” said Loki. “Stay away.”

“What happened to Steve?” Natasha said.

“Just stay away,” said Loki.

Steve was beginning to regain consciousness. Loki discreetly slid the knife away.

“Have you contacted the authorities, Baldur?” Vision said.

“We can’t risk bringing anyone near Tyrfing now,” Loki said.

“Forget Tyrfing, what about Steve?” said Natasha.

“What do you mean, forget Tyrfing?” said Tony. “This sword is trying to eat everyone’s souls, now is not the time to expose it to as many souls as possible.”

“We should contact Sam and Wanda,” said Vision. “Let them know what has just happened.”

Steve groaned again, before gasping in pain when the extent of his injuries hit him. Loki gritted his teeth, cursing the futility of Midgardian stones.

“What—?”Steve coughed, as if his lungs were seared. Loki knew the feeling. “What’s going on?”

“I thought you of all people would know the most,” Loki said. “Can you get up?”

Steve struggled to prop himself up on his elbows. The wound was still raw, but hopefully barred from infection if the runes did anything of value.

“Here it is!” said Vision. “I’ve got the sheath.”

“What?” said Steve.

“You unsheathed Tyrfing, Captain,” said Loki.

The color drained from Steve’s face. He tried to push himself up, but the pain sent him crumpling again. Loki kept a pincer grip on Steve’s arm.

“Stay,” he said. “Don’t come closer,” he barked at Tony and Natasha who hovered by the doorway. “Any wrong move and Tyrfing can kill us all.”

Vision pulled the sheath form the rubble. What dirt that had encrusted it before was now completely wiped away, leaving a shining, silver sheath that looked like a dagger in and of itself. It was almost blinding, for a little piece of metal.

“Maybe we can put it back?” Steve said. He bled desperation along with his own precious fluids. “Maybe it isn’t as cursed as we thought?”

Loki would have laughed at the naivety if he wasn’t having trouble breathing. As Vision rummaged around to retrieve Tyrfing, Loki’s heart shuddered. He could be as bitter as he would like, but that wouldn’t change whether or not Vision truly had a soul for the Soul Gem to damage.

“It’s no good,” said Vision. “The mouth of the sheath is closed up.”

“What?” said Loki. “How so? Let me see.”

“It’s completely solid,” said Vision. He slid the sheath on the floor over to Loki. “There’s no opening anymore.”

Loki took it up feverishly. True to Vision’s word, the sheath had closed up completely, thick metal stretching over where the sword should have entered. There was little point in hoping that Tyrfing would cut through.

“Well, would you look at that,” Loki said. “Tyrfing has a contingency plan.”

Steve’s hand shook when they took the sheath from Loki, trying to find a loophole. The look of horror and self-loathing was fresh on Steve’s face, the look of someone who did not realize before the potential that one had for unspeakable cruelty.

“How did you do it?” said Loki. “How did you unsheathe it?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said. His voice was strained. “I don’t—I don’t think I know. I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary.”

“What were you doing, trying to unsheathe Tyrfing in the first place?” Tony said.

“I don’t know,” Steve said.

His voice was smaller this time. Loki’s mind raced. He crouched to look Steve in the eyes. There was still a ghost of green in Steve’s eyes, before the natural blue flooded back into his irises. Loki grit his teeth.

“It’s not reacting violently,” Vision said.

Vision was crouching before Tyrfing, his fingers ghosting over the sword. It did not shudder as it had before—rather, it lay perfectly docile, and if there was any change at all it may be the trick of the light against the Soul Gem’s shine.

“It thinks it’s won,” Loki said. “No need to right when it has the upper hand.”

“What upper hand?” said Natasha. “What more can it do? We can’t kill anyone with it if we stay away from it.”

“But that’s not how we’re going to be able to destroy it, is it?” said Loki.

He looked down at Steve. Steve must have always played the hero all his life. The fact that he had done something as shocking and as anticlimactic as unsheathing Tyrfing deeply shook him. Loki had to be reminded that not everyone was expected to be the worst case scenario as he was. It must be a jarring shock for anyone who was always the lesser of two evils. He helped Steve to his feet, letting Steve lean against him as he nursed his wounded middle.

“People come in and out of this building every day,” said Tony. “Students. Just _kids_. How are we going to keep Tyrfing here?”

Loki’s breath suddenly hitched. There was no avoiding contact with Tyrfing. They needed to keep it by their sides, and yet they could not escape the Soul Gem’s powers over them. Any wrong move, and someone could be dead, at the very least. They couldn’t avoid it—they needed to resist it.

“Sam Wilson,” Loki said. “We need to talk to Sam.”

-

The story that they all agreed upon was that Steve had gotten into an accident while trying to fix a vehicle. The nurses at the A&E looked uncertain at this excuse, but they took Steve without protest to treat his burns. Vison’s fire had scorched deep, but luckily avoided any nerve damage. Loki knew that this was neither the time nor the place, but he was still jealous.

“In the end, I couldn’t even stop you from unsheathing Tyrfing,” Vision said to Steve after he was discharged. He held his hands very precariously, as if he could control how much damage he could cause merely by controlling himself. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

“Don’t,” Steve said. His voice was brittle—he still couldn’t quite look anyone in the eye. “I was the one who pulled the damn sword out. Even if you couldn’t stop me—well, I deserve this.”

He held himself gingerly, his middle carefully bandaged and each movement causing him to wince.

“What were you doing there in the first place?” said Sam. He had managed to come downtown by the time everyone else had taken Steve to the hospital, and kept watch of the lab as Wanda hid the damage and stowed Tyrfing underneath heavy bookshelves using her powers for safe measure. “This was what, five in the morning? What were you doing?”

Steve shook his head. In the matter of several hours, the shadows under his eyes deepened, as if the insistent Norwegian sun was casting longer shadows on them all as it hung for longer periods of time in the sky.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Steve said.

Sam frowned. Tony turned away, evidently perturbed by the course of events. Natasha did not bother sitting with the rest of them as they huddled like convicted schoolchildren one floor below Selvig’s laboratory, keeping an eye on anyone who may come too close to Tyrfing by accident. She paced back and forth, like an animal that you question whether they could really understand the words you said, if they were listening and judging and hanging on every word or lost in their own mind and language.

“I went for a run,” Steve said. “Ended up just going to the lab. Only place I know in this area.”

“And Vision was already there,” Tony said.

“I was already there,” Vision said.

“So you chatted with Vision a bit,” Tony said. “And then?”

Steve said nothing. Sam leaned in forward. Out of everyone else, he seemed the least bit horrified—or at least, the least bit helpless and confused. Confusion was normally Loki’s forte, until he had to make good come out of it.

“I don’t know what I wanted to do with it,” said Steve.

“What was on your mind when you were at the lab?” said Sam. “What did you and Vision talk about?”

Steve pursed his lips.

“I think—we were talking about…I don’t know,” said Steve. “The team, maybe.”

He cast a nervous glance in Tony’s direction. Sam shifted closer to Steve.

“All right,” said Sam. “How did that conversation go?”

“Where are you going with this, Wilson?” said Tony.

Sam held up a hand, as if to urge Tony to wait, just a minute. He kept his gaze steadily on Steve.

“I don’t know,” Steve said. Tony opened his mouth to protest, but Steve wasn’t finished. “I felt like everything had gone south.”

“We talked rather little,” Vision said, perplexed.

“It wasn’t the talk, necessarily,” said Sam. “It was what was on your mind this whole time, wasn’t it?”

Loki waited with bated breath for Steve’s answer. He did not have time to stop and be offended just how much a mortal who had no interaction with an Infinity Stone could understand it so much more quickly than he.

“What was it?” said Sam.

Steve kept his gaze firmly turned away from Sam. He clenched and unclenched his fists, so that it wasn’t immediately clear that his hands were shaking. Loki felt a pang of understanding, which he realized was rare.

“I don’t want to say it,” Steve said.

“If you don’t,” Sam said, “Tyrfing might try to take advantage of you again.”

Loki suddenly felt his heart clench. He had little worry about Tyrfing—he did not underestimate the corruption of the Soul Gem’s powers. It was the defense which stayed his hand.

Steve too must have felt that impending threat, questioning if it was worth confessing something as dark and as sick as his mind to resist the Soul Gem. What level of depravity could anyone such as Steve Rogers ever come up with?

“Not to everyone,” said Steve. “Not like this.”

Sam bit his lip. He leaned back into his seat.

“It can’t be all that bad,” Loki said. “You’re practically the strict moral compass. What could you possibly be hiding?”

“That’s not the case,” Sam said. “No one is a moral compass. Steve isn’t superhuman just because he’s a super-soldier.”

Loki wasn’t saying that Steve needed to be superhuman. He simply needed to be better than Loki was, which was no hard feat.

“What are you getting at here, Wilson?” said Tony.

“The Soul Gem is messing with us,” said Sam. “Not possessing us. But it’s going to strike where we’re the weakest. Suddenly the most buried thoughts become larger than life. Old grudges, or resentments, or fears, or insecurities. I’ve recognized it in myself. Do you guys?”

No one volunteered. Loki’s hand twitched. Sam let out a harsh sigh.

“If you guys keep it up like this, you’re all going to start pulling out Tyrfing,” said Sam. “Let’s have a pinch of honesty here, can we?”

“I feel it,” Wanda said quietly.

“As do I,” said Vision.

Loki raised his eyebrows. He resisted the temptation to ask a tactless question.

“How do you know about all this?” Natasha said. “How do you know that you aren’t just guessing?”

“Baldur said to come get me, didn’t he?” Sam said. He turned sharply to Loki, who clenched his teeth. “You know that I’m dealing with the sword differently, don’t you?”

All eyes turned to Loki. He felt that it was massively unfair that he was getting attention for something that he had currently no expertise in anymore.

“You are resisting it,” Loki said. “You—I can tell that you are. You are the only one who willingly brings it up.”

“Guys,” Sam said, urgent. “If you keep quiet about this, it’s going to grow. It’s going to take over and next thing you know it you’ve got Tyrfing in your hands.”

“Then what’s your big plan?” said Natasha. “Have group therapy sessions every evening? We don’t have time for any of that.”

“We don’t have time?” said Sam. “Natasha, we’ve got a cursed sword sitting in a gas hood that could run itself into someone and suck their soul out at any given chance because of this problem.”

Natasha’s jaw tightened. Loki did not like the sound of this ‘group therapy session,’ especially if it looked anything like this current circle, of yelling into people’s faces and defending himself from the beasts that were roped at bay.

“We can’t deal with this on our own,” said Sam. “We can’t just sit here and pretend that nothing is going on. That’s how the Soul Gem gets to us. The longer you keep it to yourself, the stronger it’ll get. I was straight up with all of you from the beginning. I said I felt off, I said I wasn’t sure, I had doubts, I was straight up to Steve, told him I wasn’t thinking right, feeling right.  I’m not trying to say, well look at me, but I think that that’s worth a shot because if anything I don’t think I’m getting worse.”

But you are better, Loki thought. It’s not quite the same when you are simply better.

“This isn’t like your VA counselling,” Natasha said.

“His what?” said Loki.

“No, but it’s also just as potentially life-threatening at this rate,” said Sam. “If it doesn’t work—and I think it would—what do we have to lose?”

The answer was clear in Natasha’s eyes, and in Loki’s own hesitations. There was everything to lose—his pride, his protection, and more importantly, his plan. He was not in the position to tell the truth in this tangled web he weaved. It was not that he doubted Sam’s theory—Sam had caught on with the Soul Gem fairly quickly, and out of all of them he kept his head level when near the Soul Gem. It was that what he was suggesting was so revolting to Loki that he was quick to convince himself that he wasn’t as affected by the Soul Gem as he had originally feared.

“If we want to get anything done with the Soul Gem, we’ve got to try,” Sam said firmly. “Fine. We all tried punching each other in the teeth at one point. Trust isn’t cheap. But this is a safe place—we have to make this a safe place.”

“Maybe we should start small,” Steve said in an equally small voice. “Just—one on one, before we do it group wise. Just to make it easier to try it.”

“I can’t believe this,” said Tony. “The key to surviving this hellish sword is through the power of some Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood friendship.”

“We can’t always rely on others,” Loki said. “We need to strengthen our own mettle at the same time.”

“Listen!” Sam said. “You want to stay strong? That Soul Gem is using yourself as a weapon against you. The stronger you think you can make yourself, the stronger the Soul Gem can use to attack you.”

Loki clamped his mouth shut. He heard Sam’s logic, he understood it inescapably. He doubted it religiously. He couldn’t afford it quite as much as the other Avengers—his survival in their presence depended on dishonesty.

“So,” Sam said. “Let’s just—I don’t know. Let’s have partners. To keep accountable for. If you guys don’t want a group setting. Can we try that? Unless someone has a better idea?”

Loki had no better idea other than suggesting that everyone ignore the creeping thoughts in their head. The truth was that Steve unsheathing Tyrfing was terrifying—any further and Loki did not know how much the Soul Gem could unleash. He could keep his thoughts to himself—he had several centuries of experience over these Avengers. He had dealt with the Mind Gem. He could resist for longer.

“Okay,” Sam said when unmet with protest, not entirely confident. “Let’s—how about me and Steve. Vision and Tony. Nat and Wanda. And Baldur—”

Loki stiffened. The idea of someone targeting his truth was intimidating. But then he remembered how he told Steve that his family was dead, and it was an exaggeration, but it felt good as hell.

“How about you be a group of three with Nat and Wanda?” said Sam.

Loki almost smiled out of spite. Wonderful. The one who actually knew the truth and the other who could probably whittle it out of him if he wasn’t careful.

“Sure,” Wanda said for him. “We’ll do that.”

Loki could feel Wanda’s gaze hard against the side of his head. He silently guilt up the walls around his mind, in case Wanda felt the need to wheedle herself into his privacy again. She did not come.

“Meanwhile,” Vision said. “We _do_ have direct access to the gem now, rather than trying to figure out if we could cut it out from its sheath. If we could afford some optimism at this point.”

“We can’t, but we’ll take it,” said Sam.

Tony snapped his fingers.

“Selvig,” said Tony.

“Who?” said Wanda.

“The guy whose lab we’ve just destroyed,” said Tony. “After you gave Thor that vision, he knew it had something to do with the Infinity Stones, or some sort of premonition. But he went straight to Erik Selvig to get more information, and whatever he did with Erik, he came back understanding what to do next.”

Loki swallowed hard. He hardly remembered Selvig—only vaguely recalling that he had been recruited to build the portal over New York. What the hell did Selvig know about the Infinity Stones? What a rare moment, Loki thought, for Thor to actually ask someone else for help.

“You think Selvig has as much idea as Thor might about the Infinity Stones?” said Steve.

“At this rate, there’s no one else,” said Tony. “Even if this—tag team process works, we could sit around the sword fine, but we wouldn’t know what to do with it. Maybe he helped figure things out with Thor. Maybe he knows something after working with the Tesseract when Loki snared him in. Bottom line, we have nothing to go off of.”

“We don’t have enough time to wait for more people to fly in and out,” Loki said. “Tyrfing isn’t patient. The longer we wait around and do nothing, the more risk we have that someone will take it. The sheath is out. Half the hard work is done.”

“What were you going to do with that sword, Steve?” said Natasha.

Steve closed his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It was just—it suddenly came and then…well, I didn’t get the chance to do it, did I?”

“What else would he do with a sword?” said Loki. “He would have killed someone with it or himself.”

Steve’s shoulders stiffened. Natasha put a reassuring hand on Steve’s arm.

“It wasn’t you, Steve,” said Natasha. “It was the sword.”

“Tyrfing does not control minds like the Mind Gem would have,” said Loki. “The Soul Gem just magnifies the worst in us. The rest is history.”

Natasha opened her mouth to protest. It was Sam who cut her off first.

“Maybe it is true,” said Sam. “And Tyrfing can’t excuse our actions. But Tyrfing in general is making things worse, and that’s what we need to worry about most. So until we can figure out if we can destroy this thing, let’s try and just not make things worse. Which means being honest and not killing each other. Easy, right?”

-

This would be far from easy.

“We need to put all our cards on the table,” Loki said.

They had been shuffled to a small, cramped office on the university campus to wrestle with their own minds before they bothered wrestling with Tyrfing. Natasha did not take her gaze off of the window. Wanda fidgeted with her hands—her nervousness was showing, because the coffee mug she kept as a comfort blanket between her and her new emotional accountability buddies was twitching on its own.

“That means no hiding,” said Loki. “No secrets. Nothing.”

Natasha snorted.

“Something the matter?” said Loki.

“Nothing,” she said. A beat. “Keeping secrets has been part of our jobs. Hard to break habits.”

“Everybody has secrets,” Loki said. “It’s nothing special.”

Wanda raised her eyebrows. Loki pointedly avoided looking at her.

“You aren’t broadcasting them with a town herald or anything,” said Loki.

Natasha frowned.

“I’m not embarrassed, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Natasha said.

Loki huffed. He did not know how he ended up being the leader in this trio for emotional durability when he had always been the liability in any other situation. He began to wonder if he had found that position more comfortable.

“Is it me?” said Loki. “I understand. I’m a stranger. You and—Wanda, here—” He gestured wildly towards Wanda, who scrunched her nose, “are teammates. If it is more comfortable for you to do whatever Sam tells us to without me, then—”

“But what about you?” Wanda said. “Who would you have keep you accountable?”

He would have taken flattery for her concern if her eyes were not narrowed in understandable suspicion. But judging by the fact that she was the only one out of any of the Avengers who knew that he really wasn’t who he was claiming to be, this safety net would do little for him.

“Maybe I’ll join one of the men,” said Loki. “If anything, I’d probably do considerably less damage with Tyrfing in my hand than either of you, so.”

“You’re not the one I’m concerned about,” said Natasha.

“So you’re concerned,” said Loki.

“Who the hell isn’t?” said Natasha.

“What can you lose if you tell us anything?” said Loki.

Natasha laughed hollowly.

“That’s true, isn’t it?” she said. “My ledger is bad enough. But maybe I don’t want people pulling out receipts for the rest of my life.”

Loki turned to Wanda quizzically. Wanda too looked just as perplexed. Natasha looked down at the table.

“Someone else should go first,” she said.

“You don’t trust us,” Wanda said. She didn’t sound offended. Maybe this team was more fractured than Loki had remembered. “You trust at least somebody, though, don’t you?”

“Hell,” Natasha said. She suddenly buried her head in her hands. “I’m going to kill someone with Tyrfing, aren’t I? It’s going to be me.”

“No,” Loki said automatically. “Don’t think that way.”

“Like hell I can ever trust anyone,” Natasha said. “I’m going to be the one to mess up. I know it.”

“If you’re going to keep thinking like that, it’ll only give Tyrfing more to use against you,” Loki said.

Surprisingly, that did not reassure Natasha. She dug her nails into her hair, as if she was going to claw her way to her brain and scoop it out like pumpkin seeds.

“Right,” Loki said, bewildered. He had yet to figure out if this was an act, or if Natasha truly was emotionally compromised. He knew better than to assume. “Okay. Let’s start simple. When you are near Tyrfing, what comes to mind the most? Let us start there. You too, Wanda.”

“You mean top five?” said Natasha bitterly.

“Fine,” said Loki.

He thought that would settle the matter, but neither of the women spoke up. Nor did he have any intentions in being the first. First of all, he needed to think of five different lies that were solid enough that Natasha wouldn’t be able to see through them. Finally, Wanda spoke up first, her voice small.

“I think about how I blew up that building in Lagos,” Wanda said.

The mug trembled more. She clapped a hand over it. Relax, Loki’s instinct almost said. Deep breaths. Remember?

“I remember—Ultron. Working with Ultron,” said Wanda. “And—my family. Pietro.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and then shakily raised her mug to her lips. Put that down, Loki wanted to say. Put that down, we all know what you’re trying to do. You can’t hide in a cup. Put that down, let’s put all our cards on the table.

“Right,” said Loki. “What else?”

“What do you mean, what else?” said Wanda.

“You don’t just remember them happening, do you?” said Loki.

Wanda’s lips drew into a thin line. She looked away. Natasha looked protectively defensive and a hint of morbidly curious. Even Loki was waiting with bated breath, wondering if anyone else’s thoughts could ever be as depraved as his own, Tyrfing’s help or not.

“I don’t know,” Wanda said.

“Yes you do,” said Loki.

“It’s awful,” said Wanda. “Can that be enough? It’s very awful.”

Her voice shook. Natasha put a hand on Wanda’s shoulder.

“Maybe we don’t have to go this deep,” Natasha said. “What matters is that we don’t keep secrets, right? This isn’t a secret. This is just privacy.”

“I don’t know,” Loki said. “I don’t know what Tyrfing will use as a weapon against us or not. It could use anything.”

“I don’t want to mess up either,” Wanda said, pressing her fingers against her trembling lips.

“Then what about to anyone among the Avengers?” said Loki. “Anything against them?” When Wanda shrank back, he raised his voice. “This is what is dangerous. If Tyrfing can give us a specific reason to use it, it will do just that.”

“Do you think Steve was going to use the sword against one of us?” Natasha said.

“Not entirely surprising, is it?” said Loki.

Natasha pursed her lips. Wanda hugged herself, stammering.

“I guess—I mean—” She looked nervously from Natasha to Loki. “Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.”

“That is wishful thinking,” said Loki.

“Are you sure this is helpful?” said Natasha. “Or are you just messing with us?”

“Let me remind you that it was your friend who suggested this,” said Loki. “And considering he hasn’t tried killing anyone with Tyrfing yet, his guess is probably one of the best that we have.”

Wanda swallowed hard.

“Tony,” she said quietly. “I’m still angry at Tony.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. Natasha’s hand fell from Wanda’s shoulder.

“I never forgave him right,” Wanda said. “For his bombs killing my parents. I never—I keep telling myself to, but I haven’t. And Pietro, I keep thinking—something went wrong, I must have done something wrong, or maybe someone has done us wrong that he’s dead, and I blame myself, or I blame you Avengers—”

She clamped her hand over her mouth. She was not one who was used to going anywhere relatively near hysterics; Loki doubted any of them were.

“I’m sorry,” said Wanda.

“Don’t be,” said Natasha.

“No,” said Wanda. “I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t your fault. I know it wasn’t.”

“But you think, what if it is,” said Loki. “And you cannot stop that.”

“Can’t you give us a moment?” said Natasha.

“No,” said Loki. “This is fine. What she is doing is fine. Let her do it. Let her feel however she wants.” He turned to Wanda. “Name those demons. Goodness knows none of us can do that for you.”

Wanda shook her head miserably. She took a long draught from her coffee mug. This time, Loki did not silently reprimand her for it. Goodness knew that she was doing far more than anyone else so far was trying.

“If we never joined you, maybe Pietro wouldn’t have died,” Wanda said to Natasha. “I don’t know where we would be, but maybe he would still be alive. None of this feels worth it.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Natasha said. “No—no group of people should require an admission fee of someone’s _life_.”

“Wait,” Wanda said. “Wait. I’m happy to know you all. And work with you all. Please don’t think that I hate you.”

“It’s how you feel,” said Natasha. “I get it. We will have some of the worst thoughts of the people we’re happiest with. That’s normal.”

“Hm,” said Loki.

“What if this doesn’t help?” said Wanda. “What if I told you this for nothing?”

“It will help,” Loki said. “Right, Natasha?”

He gave her such a glare that Natasha looked as if she wanted to reply by stabbing him with the table between them, but she kept her hands still while Wanda recomposed herself. Natasha rubbed Wanda’s back, if only to distract her hands from attacking Loki.

“You’re fine,” she said. “And if Sam’s right, then you’re going to be fine. Remember when Sam was saying how he was feeling hopeless and uneasy that one time? And he’s doing fine now?”

“He didn’t say he regretted any of you, though,” Wanda said.

“Maybe he is, with Steve,” said Natasha. “You don’t know that. I—” She looked to Loki again, then finally took in a deep breath. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t want to trust any of you guys, either.”

It looked like wild stallions had to drag that out of Natasha, even though Loki could have gathered that about her himself by doing so much as looking at her once. But even he knew that it would be arrogant to say that that wasn’t enough, considering that Natasha was probably the type who would only reveal herself in small doses, said doses being spoonfuls of poison to attack someone else. Loki still had not quite forgotten that time she tricked him in the Helicarrier, even if it really made no difference.

“Out of principle or experience?” said Loki.

“Either,” Natasha said. “There are probably hundreds of files about my past now publicized after we rooted out HYDRA from SHIELD. I don’t have secrets. But with my—partners, it’s different. There’s risk. I could—there’s more at stake.”

“More to lose,” said Loki.

“Or hurt,” said Wanda.

Natasha rubbed her eyes tiredly, as if four words of vulnerability were enough to wear her out.

“What could they do that could possibly hurt you?” said Loki.

“I mean,” said Natasha. “Honestly, they’re all I’ve got. They’re all any of us have now.” She took in a deep breath before turning to Loki. “What about you, Baldur?”

Loki raised his eyebrows. Nothing about this was comfortable—he would go so far as to say that it wasn’t necessarily natural. He resisted pushing Natasha further, in case it may have the opposite effect and harm their efforts against Tyrfing.

“Well,” Loki said. He searched his head for lies. He spun a story as haphazardly as possible. “My—well.”

Wanda was watching him carefully. Loki crossed his arms protectively over him. He did not have to tell the truth. But he did not necessarily have to lie either. If Natasha could be vague and possibly get something out of it, maybe he could as well. He loathed telling the truth, but he loathed even more being vulnerable to yet another Infinity Stone. After making it this far, he was not about to be its slave.

“Myself,” said Loki.

Natasha frowned. Wanda leaned forward. Loki instinctively leaned back.

“How do you mean?” said Natasha.

Loki licked his lips. Tell the truth, on one hand. Tell it and Tyrfing may not use it as poison against him. On the other hand, don’t. Not only was it risky, but it was disgusting. Vulnerability was not in his nature, by force.

“I am angry at myself,” Loki said.

But he was Baldur. To at least the majority of the Avengers, save Wanda who in the end knew little about him, he was a mortal, Norwegian archaeologist who knew more than anyone had permission. If Baldur said he hated himself, no one would be disgusted at Loki. And he could believe that Baldur was a less disgusting person, so long as he wasn’t necessarily Loki. Loki was just having trouble being Baldur.

“I’ve failed someone,” said Loki. “And I am not making it right. And I—am angry at myself for it.”

All his life he was charmingly eloquent in his lies. He had not quite as much practice being just as articulate when telling the truth. He willed himself to look in someone’s eyes. He settled with Natasha, because she knew the least, but at the same time, she knew the most, if only she knew the truth.

“I fail this person all the time,” said Loki. “And I—”

Hate that he couldn’t just accept it and move on. Hate that he couldn’t fix it and redeem everything. Hate that he couldn’t just laugh maniacally and skip off like a proper villain so that the failure wouldn’t do so much as touch him. Hate that his heart was beating so fast because telling the truth was some thrilling, exhilarating, terrifying gamble because at least when Loki lied he knew exactly what sort of reaction he was going for. There was no telling what the truth would bring.

“I think I’m scared,” he said.

Was he? He didn’t know. Maybe Baldur was scared. Baldur, who wasn’t real, who was disguising the truth as a lie, and yet the lie was a truth, because Loki wasn’t lying and yet he was doing nothing but. Because Thor was frightening Loki and he didn’t know what to do except destroy the Soul Gem or die trying, because nothing else would do.

“What are you scared of?” said Natasha.

“I don’t know,” Loki said. Please don’t ask me that, he thought, because he knew very well. Please ask me that, he thought, because I’m desperate to say. “I’ve already failed them enough. I don’t know what worse I can do.”

“It’s not too late,” Wanda said. “It’s never too late. And you regret it now. That’s not nothing.”

“It feels like nothing,” said Loki. These words were so simple and childish, and yet they carried so much weight, that when they fell from his lips he felt less overwhelmed inside. Maybe, he thought with a small shred of hope, this would protect him from the Soul Gem after all.

“They are going towards a very terrible fall,” said Loki. “I don’t think I can stop them.”

“Ah,” said Natasha. “ _That_.”

“What do you mean by that?” said Loki.

“Nothing,” said Natasha. “Rather—well, it sounds familiar. A friend, he used to feel the same way about his brother, I think.”

Loki desperately wanted to laugh. He was merely paying his penance. That was all.

“And how did that go for him?” said Loki.

“No idea,” Natasha said. “He never talked about it with us. Do you really think you’ve failed this person, or do you just feel guilty because you don’t feel like you’ve done enough?”

And Thor wasn’t talking about it now. It struck Loki, sharply, that he was receiving exactly what Thor denied himself—the company and the listening ears of Thor’s friends. Suddenly his stomach sank at that realization, as if he was robbing Thor of a lifeboat for his own gain. Just like that, all the little relief he had from speaking out loud vanished, and solidified into a tumorous guilt.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe. I suppose.”

“Sorry?” said Natasha.

“I don’t know,” Loki said. He picked at the lines in his palms. “Never mind.”

Natasha frowned. Loki accepted it. It was an imperfect lie—he was getting rusty. Or maybe, Baldur was too innocent for lies. He was not Loki for as much as he could help it.

“I’m going to go check on the others,” Natasha said, rising from the table. “See if they’re doing all right too.”

Loki nodded mutely. He did not watch her leave the room, instead picking at his hand until his fingernails created a new fate line in his palm. The moment the door clicked shut, Wanda scooted her chair closer to Loki.

“How long are you going to keep this up?” she said.

“I don’t see the problem,” said Loki.

“The whole point of this is to keep our secrets from being used against us,” she said. “And here you are, sitting here, lying about who you are.”

“I doubt that Tyrfing will use my name as a sore spot against me,” Loki said.

“Not just your name,” said Wanda. “The fact that you are Loki, and everything about Loki is not everything that is whoever you are masquerading.”

Loki gave a half smile.

“Greedy for the truth, aren’t you?” said Loki.

“I don’t want you being the one swinging around Tyrfing because you feel like you can’t talk about the things that Tyrfing may be bringing up because that will give away your identity,” said Wanda. “Maybe we should have a second session, just you and me, if—”

“You are far too generous with your time,” said Loki. “Rest assured, I am good enough at lying that I can practically tell the truth while doing so.”

“Sounds counterintuitive,” said Wanda.

Loki shrugged. He was not overly fond of hiding his identity—he knew better than Wanda the inconveniences it posed for him. And yet he could tally a thousand more reasons to keep his silence rather than to break it, and Thor illogically made up a majority of them. If Loki thought he could breathe a single breath on Midgard without having to worry about what Thor would get out of it, he was sorely disappointed.

“I wasn’t lying,” Loki said. “What I said. Not necessarily.”

Wanda’s face softened. It was a harrowing expression for Loki to see.

“Is it about Thor?” said Wanda. “I only knew him a little, but—”

“I don’t need your sympathies,” said Loki. “They are unfounded, anyway.”

Wanda’s jaw set immediately. Much better.

“I’m sure that when Sam said we talk to each other about these things,” she said, “he didn’t mean _just_ to talk out loud and hope that that fixes the issue. It takes more than just opening your mouth to keep a sword from eating up your soul, I would think.”

Loki’s jaw twitched. He did not doubt that she had a point, only that it made his stomach turn and his blood burn when the thought of him basking in what Thor had so desperately needed revisited him. And really, for all that it was worth, hours and hours of griping about Thor could only amount to so much, when it was Loki’s fault for ruminating on him in the first place.

“I can handle an Infinity Stone better than the rest of you,” said Loki. “I don’t need your bandages.”

“Excuse me,” said Wanda. “I had an Infinity Stone taped into my spine and every nerve. I think I can handle it just as well as you.”

“Go easy on all that credit you’re giving yourself,” said Loki.

“I’m giving myself no credit,” said Wanda. “I know I need this. And that the Soul Gem has been affecting me. I’m taking away your credit. If I’m struggling with this, so are you.”

Loki felt his eyebrow twitch. He never took kindly to accusations of vulnerability, even if he was tempted by it only a matter of minutes ago when he was lulled into a false sense of acceptance. But this too was true—he would rather die than struggle.

Natasha opened the door. Wanda gritted her teeth, but kept her silence. Loki let himself breathe in relief.

“Selvig’s on his way,” said Natasha. She looked from Loki to Wanda. “Everything all right?”

“Fine,” said Wanda.

She stood up and left the room. Loki watched her leave. Natasha did not move from the doorway, staring at Loki. Loki returned the favor.

“You know,” said Natasha. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said back in Lofoten, by the way.”

Loki drew in a deep breath. He almost felt the tickle of seidr in his palms, but he knew that that was just a lie. Just a ghost in his bones. There was nothing left in him. He made sure of that.

“Even if I had anything supernatural,” said Loki. “I don’t see how that could be of any help to this situation.”

“You picked up some sass on the plane ride here, evidently,” said Natasha.

Loki raised his eyebrows, before remembering the meek little fawn he had impersonated when they had first encountered each other on the hilltop on the archipelagos.

“I warmed up to you lot considerably,” Loki said.

“I’ll say,” said Natasha. “It’s almost like you’ve known us for years.”

Loki stilled. Natasha crossed her arms. His mind raced while his tongue took its time to respond.

“There is no scenario in which I would have had so much as your acquaintance before this,” Loki said.

That much was true. He would not have considered himself particularly _warm_ with any of them back in New York. Trying to kill each other did not a long-distance and long-lasting friendship make.

“Maybe not,” said Natasha. “But there are a couple scenarios where we didn’t meet on that hilltop as strangers, a couple days ago, either.”

Loki did not say anything. Natasha was being perfectly vague enough that he could not tell if he could let down the drawbridge into his walled mind, or continue to hold the fort. Surely she couldn’t have already concluded that he was Loki—there were a thousand factors to consider, least of all being there was no reason that Thor would have updated the Avengers about the fact that Loki was in fact alive after Svartalfheim in the first place.

“I don’t follow,” Loki said.

“Let me put it this way,” Natasha said. “If you give me any reason to think you’re going to turn on us, any reason to think you’ll hurt anyone on my team, you won’t have to worry about Tyrfing as much as you have to worry about me.”

Loki blinked. He unexpectedly felt a sting—he had been worrying over how not to kill any of these Avengers and Agent Romanoff was standing here accusing him of attempting just that. Even as Baldur, few had any reason to trust in Loki’s will to not hurt anyone unnecessarily.

And yet, he felt something of a familiar warmth to Natasha, that she could spar with him as an equal, and not some squabbling mortal she felt accountable for. As if he did not have to worry about her sake, that she could hold her own and make her own smart choices, even if he knew that was all just an illusion and Tyrfing would get the better of them all if they were not careful. It was not often when he felt relieved to be threatened.

“Agent Romanoff,” Loki said. “Your paranoia is showing.”

Natasha raised her chin. Loki brushed past her, following Wanda’s fading footsteps. Still, as if he was adhering to some childish superstition, he held his breath as he passed her. He could not risk if she could hear how wildly his heart was beating.


	10. Chapter 10

“We didn’t expect you for maybe another couple of days tops,” said Sam.

Erik Selvig winced as he cricked his back that was sore from the international flight. He looked decades older despite it only being about four years since Loki had last seen him. He knew better than to chalk it up to the fleeting mortality of Midgardians. Jane Foster had, at one point, mentioned his nervous breakdowns after Loki had had his way with him with the Mind Gem.

It was not necessarily disgust that came to his mind, or mockery; it didn’t surprise Loki how badly Erik was affected by the Mind Gem. Now that he saw how the Soul Gem could affect all of them without even touching or using it, it was more of a shock that Erik wasn’t just a shell of who he was.

“I was afraid you would all be dead by the time I arrived if that was the case,” said Erik.

He mopped his brow, tossing a battered suitcase into the corner of his office.

“You know about Tyrfing?” said Sam.

“Of course I do,” said Erik. “I grew up with Norse mythology. And not just the picture books they have in the children’s section.”

“And you believed that we had the real deal?” Sam said, impressed. “Just like that?”

“If I got a dollar for every time something surprised me, I’d still wouldn’t pay off my electricity bill,” said Erik tiredly.

He scanned the room for the occupants. He nodded in acknowledgement at Steve, Natasha, and Tony, but frowned quizzically at the others, including Loki. Loki pointedly matched his gaze, just to avoid being set apart.

“Wanda, Vision, Sam, and Baldur,” Steve said, counting off each person. “They’re part of our team.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. No one else, however, seemed put off that Steve had included Loki into this proverbial team, and no one raised their voice to protest the decision. Like a child, he automatically recalled all those times in the past when he felt like a tumor to the Warriors Three, or his own family, or any group of people in which Thor fit so comfortably. He tried not to feel any sort of emotion in reaction to any of this.

Erik had a double-take when he turned to Vision. Maybe the old scars of the Mind Gem were still in his nerves, that the presence of it, however docile it was in Vision, triggered something old and harsh in him. Vision bowed his head, intuitively regretful of a thing that he was, but never did.

“Is that—?” said Erik, before stuttering and touching his own forehead.

“The Mind Gem,” said Vision. “Yes. Is it truly that recognizable?”

Erik did not readily answer. His face paled at the confirmation.

“He’s good, Selvig,” said Steve. “Trust us. Or, trust Mjolnir. He can lift Mjolnir.”

“He can?” Erik said. “Last I heard about any of these stones, Thor was writhing in an ancient pool screaming about the Infinity Stones and talking to the Norns—”

“He what?” said Loki.

“I don’t understand it any more than you do,” said Erik.

“The Mind Gem isn’t inherently evil,” Vision said. “Or at least, if it was, Thor had influenced me otherwise.”

Erik snorted softly.

“He has that effect,” said Erik.

Loki swallowed hard.

“And you—” Erik turned to Wanda. “Thor had mentioned a pair of siblings who were affected by Loki’s scepter. Is that you?”

Wanda nodded, a little caught off guard by the attention. Erik wiped his brow again. He looked as if he had just finished running ten miles, standing in the presence of something that had at one point terrorized him. And he did not even know that the person responsible for all that was standing right behind him.

“So it’s destroyed, then?” said Erik. “Loki’s scepter?”

“It’s all done for,” said Tony. “Otherwise Vision would be an animatronic.”

“That’s true,” Erik said. He cleared his throat, wiping his palm on the side of his trousers. “That’s good, that’s true. You’re saying that Tyrfing has the Soul Gem in it?”         

“That’s what genius here theorized,” Tony said, jerking his head towards Loki’s direction. Erik frowned.

“How do you know about the Infinity Gems?” he said.

Loki bared a calm composure.

“I didn’t know that was what they were called,” Loki said. “I just recognized the sort of power they had.”

Erik hummed, his eyebrows still furrowed. Loki bit down on his tongue, daring anyone to call out his bluff.

“I would have thought you’d all go to the real expert on the Infinity Stones for this rather than me,” Erik said, pointing to the ceiling as if Asgard rested directly above them atop the clouds.

“If he was concerned, he’d come down already,” Natasha said.

“Maybe you can give us a hand on that,” said Tony. “Got Jane Foster’s number on you?”

Loki’s heart skipped a beat. He suddenly felt the fuzz enter his brain, numbing out his thoughts and making nearly every word everyone else said sound unintelligible.

“Jane?” said Erik. “What do you think she can do for you?”

“Well, maybe if we can’t get him to come down,” said Tony. “His lady will.”

Erik shook his head.

“Haven’t heard from Jane in nearly a year,” said Erik.

Loki’s mouth had gone dry. He wanted to curse Thor; he wanted to beg for forgiveness. He never liked this juxtaposition of emotions. It all simmered down to bitter guilt, in the end.

“Last I heard,” said Erik, “she was going off on some mission to help Thor.”

Tony raised his eyebrows.

“So she’s MIA as well?” he said. “Hell. Maybe that’s why he’s not leaving Asgard.”

“What do you know about the Infinity Gems, then?” Loki said, cutting deeply into the conversation. “What had Thor told you?”

“It was more what the Norns told me,” Erik said. Loki gaped at him—Erik took it as confusion. “It’s a long story not worth telling the details. But that’s how he figured out that Ultron possessed the Mind Gem—and that there were other Infinity Gems around the universe. He never mentioned anything about destroying them.” He chewed on his chapped bottom lip. “How about I take a look at it?”

“It’s—” Tony shot a sidelong glance at Steve. “Kind of hell-bent on destruction now.”

“Meaning?” said Erik.

“Meaning it has been unsheathed,” said Loki.

Erik’s lips tightened into a thin line.

“All the same,” Erik said. “Leaving it alone probably won’t keep everyone safe, either. Otherwise, no one would have ever found it.”

“Fine,” said Tony. “But we’re not taking it out of the gas hood.”

“I’d rather stay behind,” Steve said, a little faintly.

“That bad, huh?” said Erik. Steve looked away towards the window in Erik’s dusty office. “Looks like I’ve come back to one hell of a show.”

Everyone sans Steve—and Vision, who elected to keep Steve company in case the gem reacted badly in his presence again—relocated to the lab. They had not necessarily placed everything back where it belonged since the explosion, and Erik’s look of horror said well enough just the extent of what he thought of their hasty cleanup. When his gaze fell on Tyrfing in the gas hood, he sucked in a deep breath of awe and foreboding. Everyone else held theirs in premonition. Loki’s heartbeat echoed in his bones—he felt its reverberation against his knocking knees.

Immediately, it felt as if he was dropped into cold water. All his movements felt forced, made his muscles echo despite how simple they were. He envied Steve for electing to stay behind; he wish it could be that easy.

“Okay,” Sam said. His voice was low—strained. “Okay, everyone. Before we get any closer.”

Natasha’s eyes were closed. She was gripping tightly on one of the benches. There was a vein popping in Tony’s neck.

“Let’s just say in one word what we’re feeling,” said Sam. His hand was shaking. “One word, that’s all. Just let it out. Any word.” He took a breath. “Anxious.”

“Dreading,” said Wanda.

“Fucked,” Tony spat.

Loki swallowed. The word—any word, really—was on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t know what kept him from saying it out loud. He was convinced that saying it could unfasten the condemning silence from his mouth for good, and that burden would fall off of him.

“Confused,” Erik said. “Am I doing this right? What’s going on?”

 “Go with it,” said Sam. Erik looked more and more uneasy. “Disgusted.”

“Resentful,” Wanda said, after a moment of hesitation.

“Uncomfortable,” Natasha said.

Loki closed his eyes. If he said it, no one would question it. If he said it, no one would know it was Loki who said it. They would all assume it was Baldur—all except Wanda, anyway. Baldur could feel however he wanted, and not be afraid. Not be ashamed.

“Scared,” Loki said.

He spoke barely above a whisper. He could hear Natasha shift next to him. He did not know how he felt about being heard.

“Hurt,” said Tony.

“Alone,” said Natasha.

Loki turned to her. She looked down at the ground. He almost opened his mouth to say how she wasn’t—she was part of the most loyal groups of superhumans he had the misfortune of knowing, but then realized that she was looking down in shame, just as he would have if he had said it himself. It was only because of Baldur’s mask that he was comfortable with saying anything at all, besmirching someone else’s name. He suddenly felt a rise of odd and reluctant respect for her, and the others, that they would strip themselves bare even to the slightest degree despite the shame.

“Angry,” said Tony.

“Sick,” said Wanda.

“Guil—” Loki’s voice got caught in his throat. “G—guil—guilt—”

He choked. Natasha hesitated, then put a hand on his elbow. He almost pulled away, then realized that she wasn’t hitting him, and stayed incredibly still.

They all silently breathed, in, out, in, out. Loki thought that his head was clearing a little more—before he was numb, and now he felt Natasha’s hand starkly on his arm, as if it were an anchor. Some hours ago she threatened him—he didn’t understand what changed.

Thor, he would have whispered, if he wasn’t certain that no one would hear. Thor. Thor. Thor.

“Okay,” Sam said. He gave a sigh of relief. “Okay. Let’s try this.”

Vision hung back as they approached Tyrfing. The green gem in its blade looked even cloudier than before, as if it captured a storm under its stone. Loki felt the sweat dot his forehead. He looked back at the others—Sam and Wanda looked of better color, Tony was grim but not like he was going to pounce as he was before. Natasha looked unperturbed, but she also had a knack of swallowing her vomit even if she was violently ill. Erik looked mysteriously transfixed.

“So you want to destroy this gem, correct?” said Erik.

“Ideally,” said Tony. “We don’t exactly have alternative ideas.”

“Hm,” Erik said. “That’s a tall order.”

“Always the vote of confidence,” said Natasha.

“I mean,” said Erik. “I remember when there was the whole issue with the Aether and the convergence back in London, apparently Thor had tried to strike it with his lightning and it didn’t do anything to it. And we hardly have anywhere near Thor’s power.”

“How did you know that the Aether is an Infinity Stone?” said Loki.

It shouldn’t make any difference how Erik knew. What happened beyond Svartalfheim was, frankly, a complete mystery to Loki, and a milkman could have been involved in the battle with Malekith for all he knew. The only difference was that it revealed more and more just how very little he knew about Thor’s life, where Loki was not involved.

“Thor cleared it up when he had asked for my help when Ultron was around,” said Erik. He peered through the thick glass. “What about the sword? Is the sword still cursed?”

“We think the gem is what makes the sword cursed,” said Sam.

“Have you tried removing it?” said Erik.

“That’s what T’Challa suggested,” Tony said. “We haven’t really gotten that far. We were a bit occupied with trying not to unsheathe it for it to be a problem in the first place.”

“How did it get unsheathed?” said Erik.

There was a beat of an uncomfortable silence. Even Loki felt as if he was overstepping his boundaries if he tattled.

“There was a bit of an accident with Steve,” said Sam. “That’s why he isn’t keen on coming close to it now.”

Erik crouched so that he was eye level with the sword.

“It looks like a magic ball,” said Erik. He grimaced. “What’s going on in there?”

“That’s the souls,” said Loki.

“Whoa,” said Tony. “We haven’t gone that far yet.”

“You think that no one has used the sword before?” said Loki.

“But their _souls_?” said Sam.

Loki gritted his teeth. There were rumors about the Soul Gem and its abilities—about how it stole the souls that were meant for Valhalla and locked them into a prison of its own making. The souls that were already trapped inside of the gem must have been there for a millennium already, before Surtr had tossed it down to Midgard.

“Let me get some shots of it,” Tony said. He took out his mobile, zooming the camera in on the gem. “Just in case we need to get more of a study of it without having to be near it.”

“If we remove it,” said Erik. “We wouldn’t have to worry about the curse.”

“We would still have to worry the gem,” said Loki. “Removing it would just move the threat to another form.”

“Yes, but at least it wouldn’t have a sword in its clutches to make it easier for it,” said Erik.

Loki narrowed his eyes. There was no possible way that the Soul Gem would let itself be pried off of Tyrfing without a fight. It couldn’t be so possibly easy, not when the Soul Gem was the most sentient of the stones.

“Let me try,” said Wanda. “I don’t have to touch it.”

She stepped forward to the glass, while Tony was still making records of it on his mobile. She flashed Loki a sidelong glance before keeping her hands relaxed at her side. The red smoke of her powers wrapped tightly around the stone, memorizing each sharp edge before diving deep into its crevice.

Then, Tony gasped.

“What?” Sam said sharply. “What is it.”

“There are— _hands_ ,” Tony said, aghast. “It has hands holding onto—wait!”

He pulled the closest person to him down next to him on the ground, who happened to be Loki. Loki fought back a snap before looking into the mobile screen and feeling his stomach suddenly turn.

“Norns,” he muttered.

As Wanda tried to pry the gem off of the blade, spindly, ghost-like hands—more solid than smoke but more indistinct than a shadow—poured out of the gem, clutching onto the blade as if its life depended on it. The more Wanda pulled, the tighter their fingers dug into the blade, never fearing being sliced open by the edge when they were not real.

“I can’t take it off,” Wanda said, panicked. She raised her hands automatically, trying to guide her magic’s motions out of habit. “I can feel it moving, but I can’t—take—it—off!”

“Wanda!” Loki cried out.

Suddenly, the hands released their grip on the sword and stretched—inhumanly, monstrously—towards Wanda. In a split second, Wanda screamed, stumbling back, hands flying to her chest as if she had just nearly had a heart attack. Her powers relinquished its grip on the gem and it clattered back onto the gas hood, deceivingly docile, while Wanda covered her face with her hands, gasping for air.

“Wanda, what’s wrong?” Natasha said.

Wanda whimpered. Her fingers were shaking. Loki looked down at Tony, whose expression mirrored every racing thought in Loki’s head. He wasn’t imagining it. And if that was an epiphany on Tony’s face as well, he wasn’t alone in questioning it, either.

“I’m sorry,” Wanda said. Her voice was thick, and her eyes were welling up with tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what—I’m sorry.”

“Do you need to sit down?” Sam said. He hurriedly pulled out a chair from one of the desks for her. “Here, you can—”

“I’m really sorry,” Wanda said, before she tore out of the room.

The door slammed shut behind her. Loki felt his stomach go sick. They had been so close—the moment those hands released the blade, he could have sworn that even his own pinky finger could flick the gem off of the blade and all would be settled. And yet—

He could hear Wanda’s footsteps racing away from the lab, running. He looked uneasily to Sam, who was looking more and more distressed despite his earlier leadership.

“It attacked Wanda,” said Tony. He scrambled to his feet, holding up his mobile. “I got it all on video, zoomed in to maximum capacity. That Gem—it’s got _hands_ or something, like ghosts inside it.”

“Hell,” Natasha said, breathless.

“Wanda was close,” Tony said. “She could have pulled it off if she had more time. But the moment it realized it was losing, all those hands—you saw it too, didn’t you?”

He turned sharply to Loki, whose gaze was still locked on the door through which Wanda disappeared.

“Right,” Loki said. “It let go, but to attack her.”

“Let go?” said Erik. “You mean, it could have been removed?”

“It was too fast,” said Loki. “Wanda could have removed it, but it attacked her. Probably stronger than it has been poisoning the rest of us this whole time, just to be safe—”

Sam turned around and immediately chased after Wanda. Loki clenched his teeth.

“How did it attack her?” said Natasha. “Is she going to be okay?”

“I think it wanted her soul,” said Loki.

He moved towards the door. Natasha immediately grabbed his arm, more roughly than when she had encouragingly held onto him just minutes ago.

“Is she going to be okay?” said Natasha.

“She’s still alive now, isn’t she?” said Loki. “You would know if the Soul Gem had done its duty, trust me.”

He wriggled himself free from Natasha’s grip and followed Sam out the door. While he snaked through the corridors, keeping his ears open for familiar voices, Natasha came bounding after him. He resisted letting out a groan of exasperation.

“Do you really not trust me that much?” he said.

“I’m not chasing after _you_ ,” Natasha said. “I’m looking for Wanda too.”

Loki narrowed his eyes but did not protest. She jerked her head as if to say, follow me, you asshole, and headed towards the other hall. Loki hesitated before reluctantly following her.

At one point, he could hear muffled sobs at the end of the hallway. A door was ajar, leading to a room full of barren cubicles where visiting lecturers would come and go. Natasha shot Loki a look that clearly threatened him to make the wrong, tactless move, before gently pushing the door open, knocking on the glass window.

“Hey,” she said. “Can we come in?”

Sam and Wanda were huddled in one of the tiny cubicles. Wanda’s arms were wrapped around her middle, as if she had a stomachache. When Natasha and Loki came inside, she shifted in her seat to face the carpet-lined cubicle wall instead of them. Her shoulders were hunched and shaking. Sam gave them a nod in acknowledgement before turning his attention back to Wanda.

“You all right with Natasha and Baldur coming in?” said Sam.

Wanda gave a jerk of a shrug. Natasha pulled up an office chair next to them. Loki cautiously stood in the back, suddenly at odds with his presence here and the sheer fact that he did not think he belonged.

“I’m sorry,” Wanda said. Her voice was cracked. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“The Soul Gem did,” said Loki. “It could tell that you were a threat. You nearly got it beat.”

Wanda scoffed softly. She rubbed her swollen eyes.

“You need some water?” Natasha said. “I’ll get you some water.”

She stood up and searched around for a water cooler. Loki suddenly was jealous of her quick thinking—find palpable things he could do, as to avoid sitting here awkwardly without any idea of what to say.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Loki said, trying to emulate Sam’s calmness.

Wanda swallowed hard. She stemmed her running nose with her sleeve.

“I don’t know if it’ll help,” she said.

“Right,” Loki said, feeling useless. He sank into the seat that Natasha had previously occupied. “If it is of any consolation to you, it probably wouldn’t hurt, either.”

Wanda sniffed. She sounded miserable. She squeezed her fingers, as if trying to reassure herself that she was still, physically, here.

“It’s just,” she said. “Pietro.”

Sam hummed. Loki felt the discomfort squeeze tightly around him. But he didn’t move away.

“I just feel—so alone,” she said. “I know I have friends in you all now. I know that. But he’s my brother. And none of you knew him.”

Loki suddenly wondered if Thor had grieved this much for him when he had fallen in the Void. If he was grieving this much for Jane right now.

“All our family is already gone,” Wanda said. “What friends we had, we lost them when HYDRA took us in and kept us. None of you know him. I feel so alone just—crying for him. Like I’m the only one who remembers him and if I don’t, he’s gone. He’s—”

She stopped, her lips trembling again. Natasha returned with a paper cup of water, but held it for Wanda as Wanda wept with a fresh bout of tears. Loki did not know how to feel. It was not that he had assumed that mortals would not feel the same way that Asgardians would, being so minute and short-lived. Only that he had never actually seen it before, not deeply. Whether they were the Avengers or Jane, they poured blood and sweat trying to prove that they were just as strong as him, or Asgardians, if not stronger. Rarely did they admitted they were just as weak, as well.

I did not come here to share our grief, Thor had once said. It took Loki a long while before he realized just how heavy that meant for him.

“Then we can do it together,” Loki said.

Wanda looked at him, perplexed. Probably nowhere near Natasha’s look of incredulity. Loki tried to ignore all of this.

“Your powers from the Mind Gem can put thoughts and memories into people’s heads, can’t they?” said Loki. “What if you put your memories into me? Then I will experience him as you have. I can mourn him with you.”

Wanda shot him a look of shock. Loki himself did not know where these words were coming from, or why he thought that he would want to do any of this. It was a paradox of logic—to mourn someone else’s brother felt far more appealing than mourning his own, and carrying someone’s burden felt far more straightforward than helping them. It sounded like something that Thor would do—lug it all onto his own shoulders without question.

“That might not be a good idea,” Sam said quietly.

Loki did not know if he should agree. But Wanda nodded quietly. She swallowed hard and gave a short nod.

“I appreciate it, though,” she said.

Her voice was thick. She might not be telling the truth. It was a strange suggestion, which he recognized himself. Share your pain, so that it becomes my pain. Maybe it was not as altruistic as he first thought.

“Not a good idea,” Loki echoed. Thor would never have been so selfish—which was the problem, because he thought selflessness was to internalize whatever storms he brewed in himself because that was what good people did. Thor would have done something better to help, except Loki did not know what that would have been, because Loki was not a good person, and he was doing badly at faking it. “Never mind. It’s just that I do not know what to do.”

“It’s okay,” Wanda said. She wiped her eyes. “You don’t have to do anything.”

But I do, thought Loki. Because he had spent his entire life doing nothing at all, and he had proof of it. And, if he could shove all self-centered thoughts to one side, he felt pity for her. In the end, he had chosen to mourn alone, because if he desperately needed someone, Thor would understand the loss as well. She mourned alone because she was the only one who could. It must be lonely to love someone so alone.

Suddenly, Vision appeared through the wall. Loki jumped out of his seat. Natasha had already grabbed a stapler from one the cubicles to hurl at him before she saw who it was. Even Sam muttered a curse from the surprise.

“You need to stop doing that,” Sam said.

“I’m sorry,” Vision said. “I was hurrying—Tony told us what had happened. Are you all right, Wanda?”

He hurried to Wanda’s side, rubbing circles on Wanda’s back. Wanda nodded, her shoulders visibly relaxing at Vision’s touch, although her cheeks were tinged pink from the overwhelming amount of attention.

“I’m fine now,” she said. “Now that I know what that gem is trying to do with me. I’m not going to let it.”

“You should still take a break,” said Sam. “We don’t have to jump at it immediately.”

Loki wanted to protest that there was no time, but Wanda, although her tears were gone and could speak coherently now, still looked miserable.

“How about you take some fresh air?” said Vision. “Let’s walk.”

Wanda nodded. She pushed her chair back into the desk.

“Thanks, everyone,” she said quietly. “For looking out for me.”

Sam saluted. Vision led Wanda out of the office. When they were out of earshot, Sam let his head fall back in exhaustion.

“Shit,” said Sam.

“What?” said Natasha.

“Some help I’ve been,” said Sam.

“Don’t say that,” said Natasha. “Sam, we’ve only just started figuring this out.”

“I just thought,” said Sam, “ _maybe_ I had an idea what to do. And bring what I used before to help people to help us now. And then we could deal with this whole Infinity Stone nightmare. But it’s done zip. We’ve gotten nowhere.”

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Loki pressed his lips together.

“This is the Soul Gem that we are talking about,” said Loki. “An Infinity Stone. That curses a sword to kill every time it is drawn. The fact that no one is dead already is an achievement. If you had not exercised us against the Soul Gem’s influence, we probably would have immediately taken the sword and killed each other at this point.”

Sam turned to Loki, conflicted. Loki did not really understand why he trusted Sam’s judgment so much; maybe he defended Sam from himself for some wild hope that they had a chance at destroying the Soul Gem without casualties. Or maybe he was just trying to pay back a debt, that Sam was so concerned about his friends that he doubted himself when one of them crumpled under the pressure, and someone might as well repay the favor.

“Maybe we cannot stop being affected by the Soul Gem,” said Loki. “But preventing it from getting worse is no easy feat. If it were not for you, maybe Wanda would have taken that sword and wielded it against us.  Victory does not mean never facing the problem in the first place.”

Natasha was watching Loki with a strange expression on her face. He tried not to think about how uncomfortable she made him. He was Baldur right now—Baldur could say anything and no one would think it strange, no one would suspect that he was lying or using it for his own personal gain. He felt oddly free to say whatever he wanted without the weight of his reputation, and was caught by surprise himself what he chose to say.

Sam took in a deep breath. Sam gave a low chuckle. He ran a hand over the back of his head before standing up as well.

“Thanks,” said Sam. “I mean—maybe this really is the best that we could hope for. Not dying.”

“Sounds about right,” Natasha said.

 Sam gave a wry smile. Then, he clapped a hand on Loki’s shoulder, giving it a rough but easy squeeze. The gesture made a lump form in Loki’s throat. Suddenly he became fiercely jealous, and he couldn’t tell of whom he was.

“Everything all right?” said Sam.

“Yes,” Loki said. His throat burned. “Of course.”

-

“I did it!” Wanda said, breathless. “Did you see that? I did it.”

Water had no form—it slipped even from Wanda’s powers when she tried to manipulate the fountain in the middle of campus. Loki remembered the theory behind it, but he had never needed to put it into practice. Still, it required a form of concentration and technical perfection to be able to bend water to one’s will, and Wanda was currently levitating small orbs of water around her like fairy glass.

“Unless you can use the water to drown someone on land,” said Loki, “you probably will not need to use this. This is to get in touch with your seidr, think outside the box and stretch your abilities—”

“Don’t be such a killjoy,” said Wanda. “This is so much fun.”

She tried to move an entire gush of water, and only succeeded in diverting the flow right on top of her. She shrieked as the cold water struck her right on her head, and Loki couldn’t help but laugh.

“Watch it,” she said. “I could do the same to you.”

“I dare you,” said Loki

Wanda screwed her face in concentration. Loki snorted at the sight of it. Her spirits were considerably lifted when he took her on another seidr lesson, and he thought, maybe this was what he was good for. Distractions. That was the most that his seidr was valued for in Asgardian battles as well, anyway. The least they could do is earn a smile, rather than lack of gratitude.

The water came dangerously close to his head. Loki wrinkled his nose.

“I’d be more impressed if you could get the water off of yourself,” said Loki.

“Do you think I can do that?” said Wanda. “But my powers—the water is all over me, I’d have no single thing to concentrate on.”

“There are no rules to your seidr,” said Loki. “Your powers are more fluid than you think.”

“Ha,” said Wanda.

She took in a deep breath, trying to grasp at the water that clung to her hair and clothes. There was a haze of red that swathed her as if she were wearing gauze, and when she tried to move the water she only succeeded in flipping her jacket inside out over her head.

“You never know when you need to use that on the field,” said Loki as Wanda scrambled to pull it back down.

“I did _something_ ,” Wanda said. Loki narrowed his eyes. “Formless molecular manipulation is frustrating. I mean—” She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I can move smoke. Or rather—gas. I can manipulate that.”

“So what is the difference?” said Loki.

“The chemical composition maybe?” Wanda said. “Gas, especially if it is denser—maybe that’s it. But that doesn’t explain why water is so hard.”

She shook her head vigorously until water flew out from her long hair. Loki wrinkled his nose when droplets pecked at him.

“Maybe air is easier for me,” said Wanda. “Gaseous matter…maybe—ha!”

She rushed over to a student who was passing by the fountain. Loki frowned as she gabbed with him, before he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, thin rectangle, no bigger than a pinky finger. She hurried back to Loki, crouching next to him.

“What are you doing?” said Loki.

“I’m curious,” said Wanda. “I wonder if I can manipulate fire.”

“No,” said Loki.

Wanda looked up, frowning. Loki clenched his teeth.

“What do you mean?” said Wanda.

“Nothing can control fire,” said Loki. “Unless that was your powers in the first place.”

“Fire is not that different from gas, I would think,” said Wanda. “I probably would find it easier because I’m more used to it.”

She flicked at a little wheel at the top of the rectangle. A small flame suddenly erupted from the lighter. Loki jerked back.

“I didn’t do that,” said Wanda. “That’s the lighter.”

“Put that down,” said Loki.

Wanda wrinkled her nose at him. She raised her hand over the small flame. The pinprick of orange began to shake.

“What are you trying to do?” said Loki.

“I want,” said Wanda, “to make it bigger.”

She scrunched her face. The flame seemed to stretch, growing more translucent but wider in size nonetheless, before the weakest of winds could dissipate it.

“Dammit,” she said.

“We were practicing on water,” said Loki. “Remember?”

She flicked at the wheel again, and the fire came again. Loki raised his hand automatically as if to block it. Wanda frowned at him.

“What’s the matter with you?” said Wanda.

“You will burn yourself,” said Loki.

“No I won’t,” Wanda said. “And we have water right here, if anything goes wrong.”

“Stop this,” said Loki.

Wanda stood up, holding the lighter out before her. She flicked her fingers up. The fire jumped, hovering above the lighter, like a little firefly.

“Ha!” she said.

Loki rose to his feet as well. His knees shook underneath his weight.

Wanda dropped the lighter, cradling the fire between her palms. Her eyebrows furrowed as her red smoke swirled around the fire, pulling in oxygen closer for the fire to feed on. It grew from the size of a pea to a pebble to a bird. Loki could feel the heat against his face already.

Wanda held out her hands. The ball of fire levitated away from her, from her reach in her control. Loki’s heart leapt. Wanda’s face shone with pride.

“Look what I can do!” she said.

The ball of fire spun around her like a sun. It swerved towards Loki’s direction. Loki lifted a hand instinctively. Then, somehow, the ball of fire dissipated completely, and the head of the statue of the university’s famous educator went flying off of its perch.

Students screeched around them when a bronze head was suddenly punted into the window of the nearby building. Wanda gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth. Loki did not realize what had even happened until he realized that he felt his palms hot and sweaty, his nerves racing with an all-too familiar power. The blood drained from his face.

“What happened?” Wanda said.

Students rushed to the statue, mistaking the source of the freak accident to be from there. Loki stumbled back, his heart racing as he immediately clamped down on his seidr, before any excess sparks could fly from his fingers. His mouth suddenly became dry.

“Loki?” Wanda said. “Did you make that happen?”

“No,” Loki said quickly. “That wasn’t me.”

“But—” Wanda looked back at the statue, then back to him. “I saw it. It went right through the fire and then—”

“That wasn’t me,” Loki said. “I told you. I can’t do anything. I don’t have my seidr.”

“You do, though,” Wanda said. “I’m not—I’m not _angry_ at you.”

“I can’t do it,” Loki said. “I swear to you. I have no seidr left. Not ever since I came back from Muspelheim.”

Loki’s hands were shaking. Traitorous. Treacherous, damn hands. This was not supposed to happen. Nothing was supposed to happen. He did not have seidr. He could not have seidr. Otherwise, everything was ruined. Everything was.

“Loki,” Wanda said, her voice low. “What the hell is going on?”

“Don’t do that again,” said Loki.

“What?” Wanda said.

She stopped short, stunned and stung. Loki latched onto that anger like a man who could not swim.

“I told you not to play with fire,” said Loki. “Why didn’t you listen to me?”

“What’s wrong with a lighter?” said Wanda.

“Fire is beyond anyone’s control,” said Loki. “Even beyond seidr’s control. You can’t just play with it—”

“I was doing fine until you freaked out,” Wanda snapped.

Loki suddenly started forward. Wanda reacted immediately; her red smoke reached out to him like an extended hand that blocked him from moving forward, pushing against his chest. Loki bit back a snarl.

“You think you are so powerful with your seidr,” said Loki. “It’s a _gift_ , remember that. And not everyone deserves it. And not everyone gets to keep it. Do not treat it like a toy.”

“You could just say that you are afraid of fire, you know,” Wanda said waspishly.

Loki’s bottom jaw jerked. His hands shook as if a wild animal was trapped in his bones. But he mustn’t let his seidr out. He mustn’t prove himself wrong.

“Never mind,” Loki said vehemently. “Just—let’s put that statue back together before anyone gets suspicious.”

“My powers can’t do that,” said Wanda.

“Then—” He jerked his head. “Let’s flee the scene. We were never here.”

Wanda opened her mouth to protest, but Loki had already spun on his heel and left. She sped up to catch up with him. Loki walked briskly, slamming the heels of his hands together as if the dull rhythm of hitting himself could smash the seidr out of him, further down into his core so that it would not come out. His nerves burned.

“Loki,” said Wanda.

“What?” he said.

“You’re bleeding.”

Loki spun towards her. Then he felt the warmth trickle down against his upper lip. He brought his fingers to it and felt the slick, sticky residue bleeding from his nose. He wiped it off with the back of his hand hastily.

“Dammit,” Loki said. “Damn this all to Hel.”

The bleeding was steady. It tasted terrible against his lips. He wanted to hit himself across the head for all the things that were slipping out of his control. Wanda looked at him with a worryingly knowing expression.

“Loki,” she said. “Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” Loki said.

The blood coated the back of his throat. He fought back a gag. He stemmed the flow of his blood with his sleeve. He didn’t know what he was going to do about cleaning it. He did not have his seidr, after all. He refused to.

-

Loki’s arms were streaked with blood. Even Eir in her impeccably stagnant calmness could not handle him, could not get a word in as he talked over her. Her bottles of tonics were shattered upon the ground, the floor thick and slick with their spilt contents. He put waste to her efforts, as he did with everyone.

“Prince Loki,” Eir said, raising her voice as her aides fluttered around her, all of them too scared to approach him, too scared of the fact that he wasn’t tied down to the table. “Listen to me—”

“You’re wrong,” Loki said. His voice was haggard. “You’re wrong, you’re wrong.”

His hands were bleeding. The pieces of glass were still wedges in his skin. He wanted to dig them further in until he dismembered himself. They were tiny, sharp splinters of glass and yet he swore he could cut off all his nerves with them alone.

“Prince Loki, breathe,” Eir said. “Breathe with me, take deep breaths—”

“I can’t have my seidr back,” Loki said. “It’s not possible, it’s not right.”

The gruesome wounds that had covered Loki’s hands were lessening—the scars fading into some rough reminder rather than an eyesore. Eir said that without his seidr they would not heal properly, and yet they were. He had expected to be mutilated for the rest of his life.

“This is a good thing,” Eir said. “It’s a good thing. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

She tried to take Loki’s wrists. He hit her away.

“I don’t want it,” he said. His voice was ripping, holding back dry sobs. “I told you that Surtr had taken them away from me. It’s true.”

“Please let me tend to your hands,” Eir said.

“I asked the Norns,” Loki said, breathless. “I asked them and I swore that I could help.”

“Help _what_?” Eir said. She tried to take Loki’s wrists. His blood tipped her fingers. “What would losing your seidr help at all?”

“Thor,” said Loki. “I—I want to help Thor.”

He felt his lips tremble. He suddenly feared that he would be caught crying—but he was not some child who got a bee sting playing in the gardens. And yet he felt gruesome, as if he had told a horrible secret, or was caught with an embarrassing injury, such that was a tremulous heart.

“What do you mean?” said Eir.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Loki said. “I have nothing else to give. Don’t!”

She tried to extract the glass from his hands, but Loki refused to be spared from his crucifixion. He relished the pain as the glass dug deeper into his skin. He grasped tight on the palpable sensation that he was doing something, anything at all.

“This is all that I have,” said Loki. He tried hard not to cry. It felt ugly to be so helpless. “Don’t tell me that it was for nothing. This is all I can do.”

The door creaked open. Loki’s heart froze. Suddenly his blood was a badge of shame, not sacrifice. And as Thor stepped into the healing ward, his face silent and unreadable, Loki suddenly felt incredibly small, like a child caught acting out against his tutor. Thor’s gaze fell upon Loki’s bleeding hands before sharpening, which pierced Loki deeper than any glass could.

“What is the matter?” said Thor. He moved deftly to Loki’s side. “Loki, are you all right?”

“Prince Thor—” Eir started.

“I didn’t mean to,” Loki said. “It was an accident.”

Eir stopped, confused. Loki’s shaking fingers dug at the pieces of glass. They fumbled, pulling the glass in and out. He could barely hold tight onto the pieces.

“I fell on the glass,” Loki said, not looking Thor in the eyes. “I had—fallen and knocked the glasses over and fell on them. It’s nothing.”

Eir frowned, her lips parted in mid-thought of protest before she finally swallowed the truth. She gently pushed Thor aside to tend to Loki’s battered hands. Loki bit down on his lip, staring down at his reddened palms so that Thor would not see him shake. His heart raced faster the longer Thor stood there, silent, watching. He did not know how much Thor might have heard before he entered.

“Are you all right?” Thor said.

Loki felt the pent-up shame rise into his throat until he was drowning in it. He did not like this mass, blameless scrutiny. He did not like sitting here being treated for scars and damage when Thor stood stoic, as if Loki had not seen him at his worse. He sat on the cot wanting to change the course of the Nine Realms if only it meant Thor could be fine at the end of all of this—he quaked under the pressure that he was the only one who saw it necessary.

“It was my fault,” Loki said.

“It was an accident,” Thor said. “There is no need to—”

“I had told Surtr that there was a mortal on Muspelheim,” said Loki.

Thor stopped. He did not move or speak. Loki felt vomit rise in his throat. He did not know why anyone valued honesty. It was terrifying.

“When I was talking to Surtr,” said Loki, “I told him about Jane. That’s why he knew. That’s why he—”

Thor made a sound that made Loki stop short. It was something between a shout and a choke. The room was incredibly still, and yet Loki’s heart was racing. The pain in his hands was not enough. He wanted it to mask everything—the racing heartbeat, the shortness of breath, that dread in his stomach that made him putrid inside. The pain in his hands was nowhere near enough.

“Why?” Thor said.

His voice was ragged, frayed on the edges. Loki wished he had said nothing. He had felt a conviction so real that said that this could help. That this could help Thor, and help him, and help them, together. But maybe it was better if he had said nothing at all.

“I thought I could coax him,” said Loki. “Coax him into telling us about the Soul Gem. I thought—”

That Loki could have outsmarted Surtr before Surtr proved too quick for that. But even his silvertongue could do so little against fire.

Loki waited pleadingly for Thor’s reaction, but Thor did not look at him. The truth was out, free to roam—it was not your fault, Thor. It was mine. I had done it. I had led to her death. Please, Thor, now breathe. It was not your fault. Don’t kill yourself over what was my doing. I have handled guilt before—I cannot handle yours.

Thor took in a breath. Loki held his. He felt as if he was going to explode. That his heart would leap from his chest and maybe take every sensation and thought and emotion with it. He could only hope for so much.

Thor raised his head. He had only eyes for Eir. Loki felt the heat rise in his face, as the shame swallowed him whole.

“Be gentle with him,” Thor said needlessly. “He—”

He stopped himself, the sentence left dangling uselessly in the air. He then stepped back, his heels crunching the glass underneath. Loki’s face screwed, trying to choke back the sudden rise of inexplicable, tangled thoughts that were barbed by nature and grated against his mind.

“See,” said Eir, as if nothing was wrong. She bound his hands in clean bandages, as gently as Thor had decreed, for reasons Loki did not understand. “Isn’t that easier?”

 -

“Thor does not wish to see anyone right now,” Volstaag cautioned Loki when Loki tried to approach Thor’s study. So Loki locked himself in Frigga’s old weaving room instead.

The tapestries were fading in color. Loki remembered hiding behind them as a child, when he sought solace in the coarse fibers. He imagined that they might smell like Frigga still if he paid attention, but he had enough on his plate. He would rather mourn one at a time.

He stuck a chair under the door handle so that no one could come in. Then he burrowed himself into the corner of the room, almost wrapped around one of the flowing tapestries that Frigga had weaved of the cliffs of Vanaheim. He did not light a candle, but he knew exactly where he was.

The Norns may find his huddled stance offensive. Not enough awe or fear in his approach. But he was neither in awe nor in fear—he was desperate and he was already living in the worst case scenario. Frankly, if anything could get worse, he doubted Thor would change at all.

“Norns,” Loki said, under his breath. “Take my seidr.”

Frigga used to warn him against bargaining with the Norns. It isn’t a good habit, she would chide, thinking that you have control. And it is unwise, she would say, to think you have anything that the Norns would ever want. The Norns did not care for anyone’s firstborns or riches, and it was folly to pin one’s hope on unanswered proposals. Loki had all the other choices in the world—the truth was that this choice seemed the most likely.

“Please,” Loki said. “Just take it from me. I will give it up. I will give you every ounce of my seidr if you save Thor.”

His hands were neatly bandaged, and they were still sore. But if he looked past the scars he made for himself, looked past the desperate denial that he had anything in his bones, he knew he could still feel the thrum of seidr shivering in him, weakened but alive, like a sacrificial lamb that refused to die.

“Take it from my veins so I will not be tempted,” Loki said. His voice was shaking. He was in the dark, hiding behind his mother’s old tapestry like he was hiding from Thor’s anger after cutting off Sif’s hair in their silly games. “I don’t know if I can give it up willingly. Please, just take it from me, take my abilities, make the choice for me. Let me give it up. If it would move you to save Thor, take it from me.”

He did not want to lose his seidr. It was his protection, his connection to Frigga, his sense of power and worth. Without it he had next to nothing to offer, and even then, Asgard’s regard of seidr was tolerant at best. He did not want to lose his seidr, but he wanted Thor to lose himself even less. There was no reason why the Norns would think this was a fair or even logical trade. His seidr meant nothing to the Norns except for loss, and his seidr would do nothing to help Thor except as a symbol of how badly Loki wanted this. But he hoped that the Norns would look down upon him and see that he would go this far for a desperate plea.

“Norns, I’m begging you,” Loki said. His seidr still burned in his bones and the longer they burned, the more and more convinced Loki was that Thor would never become whole again. The Norns’ silent rejection of his offer. “I don’t know what I can do, what else I can offer.”

Effort, said the voice in his head. Palpable sacrifice, some genuine care, but you are only interested in the easy way out.

Loki’s throat and nose burned. So did his seidr. It was as if that fire had never left him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a late update, sorry! I had written something, had it beta-ed, and then wrote this chapter to put ahead of it to run a bit more smoothly. Hopefully that is the case, hahaha. I felt bad not having a chapter last week. Normally I am not updating as I write, but with this story, it's a bit of a monster, so that is the case. Thank you all for reading!

Wanda was shaking. Loki resisted the urge to clamp his hands down on his shoulder just to keep her from moving so much. Her fear made his own nerves trip, and he fought the fight or flight instincts that were kicking in even though he was relatively unafraid.

“You’ll be all right,” said Loki.

“It will attack me again,” Wanda said.

She was holding her arms as if cold. No one else looked particularly confident, and the wave of secondhand stress that was pouring out from everyone was drowning Loki to the point that he would very well like to shuttle off to another realm to avoid all the distress. He did not fancy himself the makeshift leader of this mission, but considering how much he was keeping secret, he wondered if he inadvertently had become one, and greatly regretted this unconscious decision.

Still, working with someone other than himself to destroy the Soul Gem was probably worth the trouble, if only it did not make him feel like his stomach was poisoning itself with his own adrenaline. Between the Soul Gem and his own stomach he did not know which would murder him first.

“It will try,” Loki said. “But you also have weapons on your side as well.”

The gas hood door was lifted up, to everyone’s dismay. If any attempt of removing the stone would send whatever powers that be to resist, then it was going to take two to tango, and not everyone had the power to move things without touching them.

“You sure you don’t have any sort of robotics that we could control from afar?” said Tony. “Or some really long, really big tweezers?”

“I’m an astrophysicist. What am I going to do with a robot?” said Erik. “You’re lucky I even have a gas hood in my lab. It was here before I even came.”

He mopped the sweat from his forehead with a tissue. He looked like he was taken down by the stomach flu standing in the same room as Tyrfing. What bothered him was not as obvious to Loki as the other Avengers were, but whatever it was made Erik double over as if in pain and skittishly kept his distance.

“I don’t like this,” Natasha said.

“Neither do I,” Tony said grimly. “But if all of the gem’s efforts are distracted, it might be as easy as just plucking the gem out of the sword.”

“But the Soul Gem has more than one hand, doesn’t it?” Sam said. “Who’s to say it can’t spare one or five on another person?”

“It probably will,” Loki said.

He clenched and unclenched his hands. His seidr was useless, and yet he knew that it still burned in him. Perhaps if he tried, perhaps if he allowed it just this once, the Norns wouldn’t mind—but he squashed the thought immediately. His own life and the lives of the Avengers, as well as perhaps everyone within a mile radius of the sword, were at risk, and yet the thought of doing anything that could compromise Thor made him stay his hand. He did not deny that this was unwise; but he did not know what else he was supposed to do.

“We have to keep each other accountable,” said Natasha. “Which means force. Any funny business with reaching for the hilt and I’m using my zappers on you.”

“Hopefully not necessary,” Sam said.

Wanda took in deep breaths. She rolled up her sleeves. Loki could see sweat glisten between her fingers.

“So who’s going to give it a go first?” she said.

“This isn’t a good idea,” said Erik.

“It’s not,” said Loki. “But it’s the only one we’ve got.”

“We’ve already seen what that—that _thing_ can do to us,” said Erik. “I know what an Infinity Gem can do to anyone. It—those things are programmed for death and nothing else.”

“Only when they are used for death,” Wanda said, raising her chin a little. “You trust Vision, don’t you?”

Erik strategically did not answer. Loki did not blame him. He personally could not understand why any of them trusted Vision. He probably could not even bleed, and what did something who could not be hurt know about danger and risk?

“I’ll go first,” said Steve.

“Are you sure about that?” Tony said.

“I’m not weak,” Steve said. He was still holding himself gingerly from the wounds that Vision had given him. He walked a little bow-legged from the pain in his middle. “I messed up once. Doesn’t mean I will mess up again.”

“Be careful,” Natasha said, needlessly.

Loki held his breath. This may be the moment he was waiting for, and yet far from what he was expecting. All this effort just to take the Soul Gem from the blade, and yet he was nowhere closer to his intended destruction of it. He was nowhere further than he was when he came down to Midgard, alone.

“Ready?” Wanda said to Steve.

Steve nodded. There was a mustache of beaded sweat atop his upper lip. His fingers were barely shaking, and Loki could easily imagine them cutting themselves against the blade, blindly grappling for the green gem.

Wanda took in a deep breath. She looked nervous, but Steve looked even more so, so she gripped her fists to steady herself, and looked ahead. A warm, red glow enveloped the gem, seeping into the hair thin crack between it and the blade.

You can do it, Loki thought. This was all very pointless, but he thought it anyway, as if she had telepathy as well as telekinesis. Come on. You can do it.

Tony crouched, holding out his camera to keep an eye on those silvery hands. Loki kept his gaze glued on the screen—he could see their miniscule fingers digging deep into the blade.

“Still holding on,” said Tony.

“Wanda,” Loki said. “They’re going to come for you at any moment, so listen. Do not keep prying it off when they try to touch you. Trust that Steve will grab it. Do not hold on longer than you need to.”

“But—” Wanda started, but Sam cut in.

“Baldur’s right,” Sam said. “This is your soul that they’re trying to grab for. We’d rather try something else than for you to lose your soul.”

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. The hands looked more like talons now, muscular, fierce, feral. They curled, ready to pounce.

 “Steve, get ready,” Tony said.

Loki turned to Steve, and he faltered. Steve suddenly looked terribly pale, gaze frozen forward without seeing as if he had been returned to the ice and frozen in time.

“Steve,” Loki said.

“I—” Steve started.

“They’re coming!” Tony shouted.

The hands immediately released their hold on the blade, stretching out of frame. Loki looked up just to see what looked like thin threads of smoking soaring like the tails of miniscule comets towards Wanda. Steve cried out, but he did not move forward. Instead, he stumbled back, digging his hands in his hair.

“Let go, Wanda!” Loki said.

But Wanda had already screamed as if burned, her hands flying to hide her face as she fell back against Vision. Vision caught her immediately as she choked for air. Loki darted towards Tyrfing, desperately hoping that he could claw out the gem before the hands could return, but the moment his fingertips touched the gem, an electric shock jolted through his entire arm and he felt the air knock out of his lungs.

“What happened, Rogers?” Tony said.

“Dammit,” Steve said. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Oh God, I’m sorry, Wanda.”

“Where were you?” Wanda cried. Her face was white with fear and fury. “Why didn’t you take the gem?”

Vision held Wanda protectively, a hint of indignation towards Steve in his mechanical eyes. Steve shook his head over and over again, as if to deny his failure.

“I suddenly—I don’t know what happened to me,” Steve said. “In my head—I kept seeing, in my head—”

He backed away, until he hit a desk, knocking over several binders. Loki felt a stab of familiar worry; the kind that followed after seeing the mighty fall, and wondering if the rest of them were next.

“I pictured myself taking the sword and killing all of you,” Steve choked out. “I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to do that.”

Natasha sank into a stool, her face heavy with dread. Tony, on the other hand, shot up immediately.

“Wanda could have died!” Tony said.

“I don’t want to stab anyone,” Steve said. “I couldn’t bring myself to go near it. I couldn’t.”

“You won’t,” said Sam, raising his voice.

“None of us want to stab anyone,” Tony said. “But one of us has to go and get that gem out of there so we won’t have to worry about it!”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, looking completely disheveled as what must have been the images of himself cutting his friends to ribbons played and replayed in his eyes regardless of how much he refused to carry it out. Sam roughly grabbed Steve by the wrist.

“You aren’t going to stab anyone with it because you don’t want to,” Sam said. “And because you don’t want to you’re going to avoid every possible way that would bring you remotely near that chance. Steve, you aren’t going to hurt anybody.”

Steve took in deep breaths, one, two. He wiped his eyes, and looked incredibly small.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. It was the first time he looked truly out of control. “I let you guys down.”

No one said anything, because it was partly true. Wanda was still shaking in Vision’s arms, and the Soul Gem was still encrusted in the sword. Everyone’s fears and stress were heightened and they were nowhere closer to making any progress.

“I don’t want to do it anymore,” Wanda said. She pressed a hand against her forehead. “I don’t care if I’m being childish. I don’t want to.”

“I know this is hard,” said Sam. “But we need you for this, Wanda.”

“I have to be attacked over and over again by this damn gem!” said Wanda. “I have to remember the worst things that happened to me, over and over again, why do you have to make me do this?”

“Let her have a break,” said Vision. “We don’t have to do it immediately—”

“We don’t even have a way to get the damn gem out in the first place,” said Tony. “Unless we can blast it out with a sharpshooter. Erik, do you happen to have some sort of laser?"

“I’m not going near it,” Erik said.

"I said a laser," said Tony. "You don't need to be close to it with a laser."

Erik looked no more assured. He fidgeted with his hands, as if he could never have a good grasp on them, as they were slick with sweat.

“I’ve had enough with these goddamn Infinity Stones, I’ve had enough of those things mess with my head—”

“It’s messing with your head right now, Selvig,” Sam said. “We have to come up with a way—”

“Not my head,” Erik said. For a moment he sounded like he was growling. “Not this time, not again. Not my fucking head. These are the elements of the universe here, do you realize? The Norns have no control over them. They could only warn Thor about them.”

“So are we just going to be victims of whoever the fuck had the great idea of making them?” said Tony.

“No one created them,” Erik said. “That’s what Thor told me. They are remains of something once far greater.”

Natasha slammed her hand against the work bench, making everyone jump.

“We don’t have time for a history lesson right now,” Natasha said. “Nor do we have time to jump down each other’s throats. Fighting and accusing each other just makes the Soul Gem want to kill you all faster.”

The tension cooled, but did not lessen. Loki had to take a deep breath of his own, as the anger and emotions that stewed in the Avengers seeped into him as if he were a sponge trying to mop up a far bigger mess. A sword like Tyrfing could cut him open and potentially let all of those toxins out, but he could not think of it that way.

“I’ll try it,” Loki said.

He was met with silence. Wanda stared wide-eyed at him, shaking her head. Loki ignored her. He flexed his fingers. Maybe the Norns would see his use of his allegedly sapped seidr as betrayal. Maybe one move and his deal with them was over, and Thor would plummet to worse territories. But the weight of the realms were balancing on a thin point, and he should have known by now that the only way he could do some good was to ruin something else along the process.

“No offense,” said Tony. “But what the hell can you do?”

“Nothing less than the rest of you, frankly,” said Loki.

He took in a deep breath. He felt the seidr tickle his fingertips, and did not suppress it immediately. In the back of his mind, a small voice asked him, is this the right thing to do? What if this hurts Thor? What if this ruins him, somehow? But if every single act of his life was for Thor’s, Loki had long ruined him by now. He had a couple of mortals to think about.

“I’ll need someone to cut in,” said Loki. “In case the gem tries to attack me.”

There was a pause. No one wanted the risk of killing others inadvertently. No one wanted the risk of dying. Loki had already done both of them willingly, so he had little to worry about.

“I’ll do it,” Natasha said.

He raised his eyebrows at her as she approached the gas hood with him.

“I thought you were our failsafe,” he said, holding up his wrists to indicate her zappers.

“You think I’m the only one who has a backup plan?” said Natasha.

Loki’s eyebrow twitched. There were probably several reasons why Natasha would volunteer, one of them being that she still was convinced that he had seidr, and now Loki was about to let down his guard in regards to it. All his carefully preserved plans to help Thor were crumbling around his ears, and he wondered if that was the point of all this.

He placed his fingers around the green gem. The pain struck immediately, his seidr after months of disuse and refusal to heal the wounds that Surtr had left him reacting to any foreign magic with the same fear as the fire.

Norns, he thought, please forgive me.

When the seidr slipped from his fingertips, as thin and invisible as thread, they felt like needles piercing him through his fingertips. His seidr wrapped around the gem, searching for those ghost hands that he had just seen, wondering how much of this was going to be visible through Tony’s camera lens.

He felt the tug—he felt their pull. He realized all of a sudden that he did not know what the gem would make him see. Wanda saw her dead brother. Steve saw his bitter demons. He did not know what the gem would reveal to him.

He felt the tendrils swoop into him—it was not chilling as he expected, but electrifying, until he could feel every molecule with sharp definition. He held tighter, digging his fingers deep into the gem. Maybe he could succeed in removing the gem if it killed him. It would be the most productive his death could ever be.

Then, his mind flooded.

At first it was confusion—he did not know what to expect from the Soul Gem, what punches it would pack. He would not admit to having a particularly smooth-sailing life, thanks in part to himself, but he refused to acknowledge how, if, any of them had cut him deeply that would paralyze him now. So when the Soul Gem played its first card, he was struck with confusion, and caught by surprise.

And then, the lightning-hot, sharp, fresh emotions that these thoughts and memories that the Soul Gem clawed out of him gushed out from him, until he was sweating and burning like he was being burned at the stake. Why am I feeling this, he thought, because the confusion had yet to settle down, why am I seeing this again, why am I seeing this—

He had told himself to hold onto the gem, pry it out as it consumed his soul. He could not yell out to Natasha to rip the gem out for him, nor could he do it himself. He let go, his seidr dissipating from his fingertips, his heart suddenly cut to ribbons deeper than anything that Kurse or any other monster had tried to do to him.

For a moment his ears were deaf until he caught himself gasping for air, Natasha holding his elbow. His chest was heaving, and he realized that he was halfway to the ground.

“It moved.” Loki could faintly distinguish Tony’s voice in the midst of the stinging ringing in his ears. “I think the stone moved.”

Thor, Loki thought. He wished he had the energy to be angry. Thor. I'm sorry. Thor. He started to laugh.

“Baldur?” said Natasha.

He pulled his arm away from her to clutch his middle, his giggles growing uncontrollable. There was nothing funny about this. Everything still hurt. It was the matter of what had hurt him was so beyond who he was and what he expected that shook him to the point of laughter.

But even that faded, and the laughter dissolved into gasps for air again, as if he was fighting for his life, shaking on the floor like a starving child. His head still felt incredibly heavy, like it would topple from his neck and crack at any moment.

“—need some air?” He could only just catch the end of someone’s sentence. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to regain some footing as his mind spun and spun.

“I’m fine,” Loki said, breathless.

He pushed himself back onto his feet. He was lightheaded. Suddenly, shame made his eyes burn, and he wanted to run away. He hated what he had seen. He wanted to laugh at what he had seen. He felt invincible. He felt like nothing. 

“I just need some fresh air,” said Loki. He did not want to look at any of them in the eye. He did not want to be seen, in case he couldn’t stop himself from crying. “I’m not as tough as I hoped.”

He stumbled out of the lab, walking as fast as he could. He had risked using his seidr despite all that he could lose for Thor if he did, and in the end it accomplished nothing. He failed, and he realized that he should have long been used to that already.

Thor, he thought, and his chest hurt so terribly that he had to fight down a sob.

-

Natasha had waited several beats before chasing after Baldur. She would have preferred that Sam do it, since he seemed to know what he was doing, but she went herself, even though she knew that she was the last person from whom anyone would want to receive comfort.

But the truth was, she was responsible for him. She had brought him to the team, and she was assigned to be one of his accountability partners, reluctantly or not. And she had seen that unusual, golden glow around the gem that had not been there before, so she was entirely suspicious.

She made it four steps out the door when Wanda called out to her.

“Natasha,” Wanda said. “I’ll go.”

Natasha stopped. She turned sharply to Wanda.

“Go where?” she said.

Wanda hesitated. She took a tentative step forward.

“I’ll go after—after Baldur,” she said.

Natasha tightened her jaw. She turned to face Wanda fully.

“Why you?” she said.

“Because,” Wanda said. She took in a breath. “I want to repay the favor. He was kind to me when I had—run off.”

Natasha did not doubt Wanda’s sense of kindness. That was the kind of thing that young people with a guilty conscience often had. What she did suspect was Wanda’s sense of secrecy. Her running off with Baldur privately had not gone unnoticed.

“I can handle this,” Natasha said.

“No,” said Wanda. “Let me.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows.

“Then we can go together,” she said, with a sense of déjà vu.

“No,” Wanda said. She stopped herself. “I mean—that would be overwhelming.”

“What do you have going on with Baldur?” said Natasha.

Wanda pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Nothing,” she said. “We’re accountability partners.”

“So am I,” said Natasha. “But you know something else about him, don’t you?”

“No,” Wanda said easily. She fidgeted with her own fingers.

“You expect me to believe that?” said Natasha.

“I’m surprise that you would ask,” said Wanda. “I thought you sneak around for your answer rather than ask me, anyway.”

“I’m done with that life, thanks,” said Natasha. “As it seems many people fail to notice.”

She turned to continue towards Baldur. Wanda blurted out again.

“Wait,” she said. “He would trust me more than he would trust you. You wouldn’t help.”

Natasha stopped. She laughed.

“I don’t expect him to _trust_ me,” said Natasha. “I don’t trust him. And I’m going to find out what it is that you know about him, Wanda. Trust me on that one.”

Wanda faltered, but did not follow Natasha as she continued forward. Natasha kept her head high, but inside she was racing to a conclusion. Wanda had supernatural powers of her own; surely she would have some sense of fellow practitioners. Natasha never believed that she was imagining things about Baldur, but at least now she could assume that she was not alone in knowing that.

And what was it about Wanda saying that Baldur would trust her more than he would trust Natasha? It wasn’t entirely unbelievable; few trusted Natasha by the sheer fact that she was considered beautiful and confident, an apparently unsavory combination for the average person, and that was only scratching the surface. Whether or not she wanted people’s trust, that was how it ended up. But that would not make Wanda any more trusting, not unless…

She laughed at the idea. She could assume whatever she wanted with Wanda, but she would draw the line at concluding that Wanda had some puppy love for Baldur.

She found Baldur in the emergency stairwell, where the lights were grisly and each step echoed like the crack of a gun. He was pressed into the corner, facing the ground so that she could not tell if he was crying or not. Her boots clicked smartly on the cement stairs—if he was, he hid all traces easily by the time she approached him.

“Hey,” she said.

Baldur crossed his arms protectively. It was too dark to tell what telltale traces were left on his face.

“You all right?”

“I thought I could get it out,” he said.

He sounded bitter. His fingernails were digging into his opposite arm, as if he wanted to claw right to the bone.

“Wanda is one of the most powerful sorceresses out there,” said Natasha. “Even she couldn’t do it.”

Baldur gave a soft snort. Natasha raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.

“How long had I been holding on?” said Baldur.

“A good couple of seconds,” said Natasha. “Although to be fair, I couldn’t grab it even if you were holding on longer. It wasn’t really budging.”

“So there was something still holding it onto the sword,” said Baldur. “Maybe it isn’t out to kill whoever is trying to remove it. That’s what the sword is for. It was just trying to drive us away.”

“So it doesn’t try to kill someone unless it uses the sword?” said Natasha.

“I don’t know. Probably.” Baldur shook his head. “Probably should not try testing that theory.”

He looked away, sinking into silence. Then, he sank against the wall to the ground.

“Dammit,” he said. “Dammit all to hell.”

He ran his hands through his hair. Natasha suddenly felt a stab of pity. She could interrogate him all that she liked about what he was keeping secret, but he still had gone through an ordeal with the Soul Gem. Whatever he was keeping secret couldn’t guard him from that.

She crouched next to him. He turned his face away.

“This isn’t the best place to get fresh air, you know,” she said. He said nothing. “Do you want anything? Water?”

He laughed. She didn’t know what was so funny.

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “This would happen to anybody who tried to defy the Soul Gem.”

“Doesn’t make it less bad,” she said.

He faltered. He swallowed hard.

“It was not that bad,” Baldur said.

“You really want to say that?” said Natasha. “When you know I wouldn’t believe you?”

“It’s not whether or not you believe me,” said Baldur. “It’s the truth.”

He rested his chin on his hand, trying to look contained even though they both knew he was anything but. Natasha hesitated, then sat down against the wall next to him silently. Maybe there was not that much to gain if she finally wheedled the truth from him about his abilities. Not now, anyway, when he already had to be ripped open however privately or personally in front of all of them. Natasha was insistent, but she was no longer cruel.

“I had a nightmare,” Baldur said.

Immediately Natasha knew that he was lying. No one needed to talk about nightmares if they had already seen reality in their own eyes through the Soul Gem. But she did not raise her voice or raise an objection, because immediately, because she knew Baldur was lying, she knew that Baldur trusted her to tell a truth more real.

“And in it,” Baldur said. His voice was barely shaking. He did not look at her. “I was—I don’t know. I was on the edge. I was looking towards a very terrible fall. But it wasn’t me who was at the risk of going over the edge, it was—it was someone else.”

She wanted to sit and pick apart every word that he said. What was this ledge supposed to mean? What kept him there? Who was the other person? But she stopped herself in her prognosis and just listened.

“They kept running,” said Baldur. “Running towards the end of the bridge and I had to chase them. I just knew—I just knew they were going to run straight over the edge if I didn’t stop them. But I didn’t know how to stop them.”

He pressed his fingertips to his lips. He was creating the story in real time, spinning some tale that would be believable enough for Natasha to accept as an answer to why he reacted badly to the gem, all the while frayed from reality. Natasha saw it often—in victims who wanted to hide their own implication in their pain, in people trying to protect the ones that hurt them, in those who had something to fear about telling the truth.

“What’s the point?” Baldur said. “Everything I did only pushed them further, closer. Everything I did made it worse. I tried to grab them again and again to stop them and right as they were on the edge I tried to stop them from falling but—”

He stopped. Natasha said nothing. Only, she wondered if he stopped because he strayed too close to the truth. He turned away. She thought he saw his eyes glisten, but with a blink it was gone.

“Why do I have to care?” said Baldur. “Why can’t I just not care?”

He hid his face from her, but his voice shook. She couldn’t think about a man who was hiding secrets from her, while he hid his tears. She hesitated, but then put a hand on his arm. His limbs shook—she had been trying all this time to pick him apart that she forgot that altogether he was a person.

“I’m sorry,” Baldur said. “I didn’t have to tell you any of that.”

He didn’t. But he did anyway, and Natasha did not scold him for doing so. Whatever he was lying about, he must have said enough of the truth to make himself uneasy. She kept her hand on his arm. He hugged his middle.

“What are you feeling?” she said. “Do you feel sick?”

Baldur hesitated.

“A little,” he said. “My stomach hurts.”

His voice was small. His pitifulness made her stomach clench at the idea of coming any closer to the Soul Gem. She did not want to be stripped bare for everyone to see, shaking with an upset stomach or sweaty palms or tears polishing her cheeks. If she must be vulnerable, she would rather be it on her own terms.

“Let me help you up,” she said. “Do you want to stand?”

“No,” said Baldur.

Natasha stayed on the ground with him. He kept rubbing his arms, as if that would warm or soothe him, staring ahead of him without offering any more words. She tried to find words to say, some sort of physical touch that would be comforting, but she was never a creature of solace or help. She tried her best, goddammit she did, to take care of those close to her, but she never knew how to do it well. She hugged Steve at Peggy’s funeral, she sent a gift to Clint’s children for their birthdays, she betrayed friends for friends, and through it all she was winging it to the nth degree without any idea of which direction she should go, where she was failing and where she was doing a half decent job. Suddenly, her own stomach turned when she realized that she could see that all too close edge in her own mind, painfully vividly.

Finally, Baldur took in a deep breath. His forehead was hot with sweat. Whatever sort of anxious episode he was having, he did it sitting still. He put a hand on Natasha’s; his grip was tight.

“Thank you,” Baldur said.

His voice was small, but not thin as if he didn’t mean it. Natasha laughed hollowly.

“What for?” she said.

Baldur looked up to her. It struck her suddenly that the two of them were alone and lonely like this, in the emergency staircase, sitting and being terrified and uncertain in proximity. He was a stranger, and yet that did not matter. She had an uncanny sense that she had seen this edge he feared herself.

“For sitting with me,” said Baldur.

That’s it? Natasha wanted to ask. That’s all you wanted from me, was to sit and say nothing? She could do that without breaking a sweat, while he broke a handful of them. She was a superhero, for better or for worse. Better yet, she was surrounded by superheroes who broke their backs and paid their penances and softened their already pure hearts for others. What did she know about helping someone?

But he smiled at her, however small it was, and she wondered if maybe she was not as poor at being human as she kept telling herself she was.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOY AM I LATE  
> I can't promise if this will be continued. But the truth was that I had this chapter written for a very long time. But I never updated it. Unfortunately back when this story was going on life got just a little bit crazy and by the time it settled down it was very, very late and I had lost my momentum. But goshdarn, I might as well give you as much of it as I can. 
> 
> But yeah, this story is TWO YEARS NOT UPDATED which obviously means any movie after Civil War had not existed when I mapped this story out, and thus will continue to not exist in this story. IF it gets continued. Again, no promises. Worst comes to worst, I can post an outline of what would have happened in the story. I sat on it for all this time wondering if I really would pick it up again one day. I think now I ought to or at least die trying.
> 
> That being said, any update will probably take HELLA forever. And if it does end up being officially discontinued, I'll be sure to indicate it in one way or another on this site. I'm so sorry for everyone disappointed by the status of the story and so grateful to everyone who read and enjoyed it. I really appreciated every reader.

Natasha was sitting on the steps of the science building. It was an unexpected sight to behold—normally Natasha was moving around like a shark that would die if it stopped swimming, pursuing some endless task that she would never have the time in the world to complete. But for some reason she sat hunched on the steps, eyes glassy, barely giving notice to any student or faculty member that passed her.

Loki could have easily passed by her and she probably would not have even batted an eye. It would be easy to slip past unnoticed; it was not among his preferred things to do to run into the person who had seen him in a rather vulnerable position ever again, let alone on his way back to the horror dome that was Selvig’s lab. But silence was vulnerable, and uncomfortable, for either party, and he had a favor to return. If either of them were lucky, there was nothing to worry about.

He changed his directions towards her. She noticed him before he even reached her. She gave a glimpse of a smile of acknowledgement. He felt his nerves rise, and each step closer was some anticipation of uncharted waters.

“Not going up?” he said.

Natasha shrugged. He stood in front of her, obstructing her view of the campus circle and the headless statue. He could have walked past her, continued on his way, but he felt it wrong to move forward, even if he was terrified of the outcome. He did not know what he feared most; her spilling truths that he did not know how to handle, or merely the fact of him standing in her presence, his potential for vulnerability already out there in the open.

“What are you doing?” he said.

“Dunno,” said Natasha. “Kind of buying my time right now.”

“What for?” he said.

Natasha shrugged again.

“I’m not looking forward to seeing Tyrfing,” she said. “I’d like some time to myself first.”

He nodded, still a little numb. She patted the space next to her. He frowned but lowered himself onto the step next to her. Only then, after he sat down, did he realize that he had just been invited to something at all. He hoped dearly that she would not bring up their moment in the stairwell. He had no intentions of acknowledging it.

“So,” she said. “I’m not completely sure what to think of you.”

“Oh,” said Loki. Dammit.

“I still have the mind to make all the threats I want against you if you do something to hurt my team,” said Natasha.

Loki laughed with relief.

“As I would expect,” said Loki.

She did not say anything else. Loki turned to her quizzically, waiting for her to make a point. She gave him a crooked smile.

“I don’t know what to think of you either,” Loki said.

“Oh,” Natasha said. She laughed too. “Do you need a definitive answer?”

Loki would argue yes. She was at one point his enemy, at this point an ally that he had lied to get. And another point, someone who saw a little more than he had bargained for, and now the sight of her made his bones shake because now he remembered the feeling of being terribly out of control.

“I don’t know,” said Loki. “I’ll figure that out.”

They sat quietly, students passing to and fro. Loki did not like waiting for someone to speak; the mounting silence and the anticipation of uncertainty made the waiting all the more sour, particularly when he could not expect what they would say. He did not have enough brain power to be uncertain of someone else. He already had dedicated about ninety-five percent of himself to dreading Thor.

“Listen,” said Loki.

He paused, then regretted speaking out loud. He felt like they were teetering on the obvious, of the elephant in the room that was their particular episode, and perhaps this inexplicable fear and discomfort would dissipate if he beat it to the punchline and brought it up first. But then that would mean acknowledging that whole moment, and he had no idea what to say beyond this.

“Never mind,” Loki said.

Natasha raised her eyebrows.

“That’s it?” she said. “You had me on the edge of my seat there.”

“I doubt there is really anything I could say that could put you on edge,” said Loki.

Natasha snorted.

“Considering there’s a murderous sword upstairs,” she said, “it seems like just about anything could put any of us on edge.”

She looked down as she picked at callouses on her hand. Loki shifted uncomfortably. If only it was the Time Gem that Loki had been searching for, or something that depended considerably less on emotional weakness and vulnerability and this shaky ground that heightened his senses to the point that he could feel his fingers shake.

“You’re not _really_ scared of me at all, are you?” said Natasha.

Loki could not answer that definitively, much less truthfully.

“Is that your intention?” Loki said.

“No,” said Natasha. “I just remembered how terrified you seemed when we first got you out of that fight with HYDRA.”

“I was caught in a battlefield I had not expected,” said Loki. “What did you expect?”

Natasha shrugged in agreement.

“You seem pretty on edge right now,” said Natasha.

Loki’s bottom jaw twitched. He did not know whether he preferred to be seen or not at all. Either was uncomfortable, and yet there was no happy middle.

“Tyrfing just attacked me and now I have to go back to it,” said Loki. “Why wouldn’t I be on edge?”

“Fair enough,” Natasha said. “I just—wanted to make sure it wasn’t me.”

Natasha picked at her fingernails. Loki accepted the silence easily, staring out into space with her quiet company. From afar, he spied on a young couple walking through the campus with interlaced fingers. They stopped in front of a building, where the boy gave the girl a hug as she departed for her class. It was a useless scene to spy on, as forgettable as the rest of them, and yet Loki felt his heart suddenly sink until it caused the strings to snap. Seeing that would make Thor so sad, he thought. And then his head went numb, because he couldn’t remember that simple apathy that would have been his reaction, had it not been for Thor.

“How are you doing now?” Natasha said.

A fine time to ask this. Loki shrugged a shoulder.

“I am managing,” said Loki.

He waited for her to needle. She did not. He wondered if he was disappointed. Instead, she put a hand on his shoulder. Her touch made his skin itch.

“Is that what you see, every time you go near the sword?” said Natasha.

Loki had nearly forgotten what sort of tale he had told Natasha about what the Soul Gem had forced him to watch. Something about a dream, something about a memory, all of which was entirely true even if there was never the rainbow bridge he claimed he saw in his mind. It was first and foremost Thor, and every single time Loki had failed him. Every small detail he could remember, which sent electric shocks down his bones, and it put him to shame. He had hurt many people in his days, intentionally so for the ones in the past four years. He had lost close ones like Frigga, friends he never had. And yet, the Soul Gem plagued him with Thor, as if there was no one else in his life worth hurting over.

“Somewhat,” Loki said.

Natasha hummed.

“That sounds like hell,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be,” said Loki. “I imagine that you see something far nobler and far worse.”

It wasn’t even the damn Void that the Soul Gem latched onto as a weapon, but the Soul Gem had no business trying to frighten him. It would sooner want his hatred, and he felt it surge in and for himself with or without its help.

“I don’t think I can be the judge of that,” said Natasha.

Loki reckoned that he could. He was never shy to acknowledge his selfishness, nor his failures. Not to himself, at the very least, even if he kept his chin up.

"What do you see?" Loki said.

"That's direct," said Natasha.

"We're accountability partners," said Loki.

"I know," Natasha said. "But still. I can be vulnerable with you without having to owe you every bit of honesty, right?"

Loki didn't answer. Natasha's shoulders slumped. 

"I'm a spy," said Natasha. "Or at least, I used to be. It was like this sword was designed specifically to attack me. Keeping secrets and everything."

"Are all spies emotionally guarded?" said Loki.

"Well, yeah. That's part of the job description. The point isn't to feel. It's to make other people feel what you need them to feel in order to get what you want."

"What are you trying to make me feel, then?" Loki said. 

Natasha stared at Loki steadily.

"Nothing," she said. "I stopped being a spy a long time ago." 

Any liar could say that. Still, like a fool, Loki could almost believe her. 

"What are you now?" said Loki.

"Me?" said Natasha. She snorted loudly. "Depends. I think in the UN's eyes I'm a threat."

"A threat isn't an occupation. I know that, unfortunately. It doesn't pay well." 

Natasha raised her eyebrow at Loki. 

"Right now I'm trying to keep the world from getting sucked up by a magical rhinestone," she said. "I guess you can call me a freelancer." 

 "Freelancers don't work with a team."

"Does this count as a team?" said Natasha.

Loki raised his eyebrows. Natasha bit her lip. Loki remembered what Steve had mentioned briefly earlier—he and Tony had some sort of disagreement that evidently fractured the Avengers, but there was little evidence of how that had affected the others.

“I made a strange decision of trusting these people,” said Natasha. “Which means they know a lot of ways they can hurt me.”

“But not kill you?” said Loki.

Natasha snorted.

“I mean emotionally, you idiot,” she said. “Believe it or not, I have feelings too.”

Loki gave a wry smile.

“You haven’t had to cut them out of you at this point?” he said.

She raised an eyebrow at him. For a split second, she looked cut by his words, but whatever injury he might have caused she covered up immediately.

“If I did, do you think I would have any trouble with Tyrfing?” said Natasha.

She ran her hand over the back of her neck. Loki wondered if it was appropriate to be curious, or rather, concerned.

“I said the wrong thing,” Loki said, more as confirmation rather than a question.

Natasha waved a cursory hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “To be honest, it isn’t like no one tried.”

She spoke bitterly. Loki tried to wrack his brain for information that Clint Barton had once reported to him when Loki had demanded as much as possible from him. In the end, he realized that he had quite forgotten all of it, and that it wouldn’t matter even if he did remember. It would satiate his unquenchable curiosity and solve nothing.

“Steve mentioned there was some infighting,” said Loki.

It was an awkward change of subject, but Natasha gave a hollow laugh.

“You can say that,” she said.

“Where were you in the midst of that?” said Loki.

“In the middle of it,” she said. She shook her head. “It was just—bad. I thought I was doing the right thing, agreeing to the Accords. I didn’t want to be known as some vigilante who settled with Pyrrhic victories. But in the end it was about more than that. And Stark—well, I don’t really have _friends_ in this group anymore. Steve, maybe.”

She said that hollowly, not entirely convinced of that herself. Loki watched her carefully. He had originally thought, the first time they had met, that she was being vulnerable, talking about ledgers and Barton in the Helicarrier. Now that she did not know who he truly was, he saw how completely wrong he was before, that her vulnerability looked this different from what she pretended.

“There’s a word of advice for you,” she said. “Don’t pick sides. Just stay neutral, see how long you can last that way. Otherwise, everyone can hurt you.”

He paused. He wondered if there was any point in continuing the conversation, other than the fact that he wanted to. He was Baldur—Baldur could get away with talking about himself. Baldur was not as wretched as Loki was; there was less to fear.

“How does an Avenger not have any sides?” said Loki.

Natasha opened her mouth, then closed it.

“I think being an Avenger taught me that I can’t ever be sure if I’m on the right one,” she said.

Loki wondered if her ledger was still haunting her. In his eyes, they were children’s sins—she had blood on her hand, but she also had enough conviction to turn away from it. There must exist some point of no return and clearly she had not crossed it, otherwise she would not be here trying to save the world that could probably care less.

“That sounds exhausting,” said Loki.

Natasha snorted.

“You have no idea,” she said. “Clint had the right idea. He’s retired.”

“Who?” said Loki.

“Barton. Guy with the bow and arrow.” Natasha shrugged. “Media doesn’t cover him as much, so you might not know him.”

Loki raised his eyebrows, but did not contradict.

“What do you mean by retired?” he said.

“Quit, basically,” said Natasha. “Classically so. Back to a farm and a wife and two point five kids.”

Loki blinked.

“I never knew that Avengers would have families,” he said.

If he did, he did not doubt that he would have used that to his advantage during New York. Clint, in particular, but apparently even Clint would tell few people about his family whether he trusted them or not, Mind Gem or not.

Natasha’s jaw set. She crossed her arms as if chilly.

“I mean, we’re public figures,” she said. “No one thinks about the behind-the-scenes of a person they see on television.”

“Do you have a family?” said Loki.

Natasha looked down.

“Nah,” she said. “Too busy.”

Loki did not think she would tell the truth even if she did.

“You?” said Natasha.

So Steve did not spread the news to the entire team like Loki feared he would. In the end, it didn’t matter. The answer was still no. Thor only made it more difficult to articulate it.

“No,” said Loki. “On my own. Maybe I should join your lot.”

Natasha snorted.

“Oh, sure,” she said. “You’d fit right in.”

Loki figured that she was speaking sarcastically, so he did not take it as anything.

“I could do without the publicity,” said Loki.

Natasha laughed.

“Trust me, so can the rest of us,” she said. “If we could do this while completely invisible, I would be fine doing this in the long run. I’m sure it’d help us in the battlefield too, anyway. Invisible powers.”

“It would,” Loki said knowingly. “So, what then? You are not fine doing this long term?”

Natasha hesitated. She wrinkled her nose.

“I reckon my body will give out on me one way or another,” she said. “So it’s unlikely that I can. And it doesn’t pay that great anymore, either. Actually, there is no pay. But none of that matters when I’m still running around the world trying to keep everyone from exploding. I don’t know if I could have any other life than what I have now.”

“You think this is forever?” said Loki.

Natasha made a face.

“I can’t imagine myself doing this until I’m seventy,” she said. “But I can’t imagine myself doing anything else either. Maybe learn how to play the trumpet.” When Loki raised his eyebrows, she gave a wry smile. “Hey, I like music too. I can have hobbies.”

He snorted. Some students on the courtyard across from them were kicking around a ball for sport. He watched Natasha watch them with a sense of distance, as if she was looking back and seeing herself a decade earlier, and the sight disenchanted her.

“I don’t think I can keep up with this for that long either,” Loki said.

Natasha turned to him.

“Keep up with what?” said Natasha.

It was only then that he realized that he had meant something entirely private. And that tempting, tantalizing, terrible choice of articulating it for some sense of camaraderie; he did not think he could live as this man on the run, half-prisoner half-ghost, trying to save a man who did not want to be saved, for the rest of his life. Nor did he see this pattern changing in the future, and if any change would miraculous come, he could only imagine how much worse it could become. It was easier, sometimes, to just imagine that one of these days he would keel over and have nothing happen to him ever again.

“Some ridiculous situations I’ve put myself in,” said Loki.

Natasha cocked an eyebrow.

“Like getting involved in some space Viking conspiracy?” said Natasha.

“Life in summary,” Loki said.

Natasha gave a wry smile.

“You are dedicating the rest of your life to helping your realm,” said Loki. “I can hardly keep up with trying to help a single person.”

Natasha bit her tongue. She gave a quirk of a smile.

“No one said I was doing it well,” she said. “Who are you trying to help?”

Loki bit his lip. He was not above gossip, that was for certain. He was not one to call this gossip, because it was hardly bad-natured and more along the lines of desperate. Nothing would change if he told Natasha anything about Thor, and yet he imagined how much it would just settle his stomach.

“Someone I used to be close with,” said Loki. “I don’t know how to save him.”

Natasha pursed her lips. Loki felt a strange rush of exhilaration that came with speaking his mind. He never thought it would be so thrilling, and so terrifying.

“You think you can save him?” Natasha said.

Loki frowned. Her tone was politely cautious.

“No,” he said. “But I don’t know if anyone else can, either.”

You, he thought. Or your companions, or Sif and the Warriors Three, except Thor was refusing any and all possible routes to help. Loki was never an option, but apparently for Thor, dying was.

“I don’t know how you do it,” said Loki. “Why you don’t just get too tired and stop? You have a lot more love or stubbornness in you, apparently.”

“You make me sound like I’m on a dating show,” said Natasha.

“Is that like a matchmaker?” said Loki.

Natasha had an exasperated smile.

“Close enough, you anachronism,” she said.

“Maybe that is what you need to retire with your two point five children like Agent Barton,” said Loki.

Natasha raised her eyebrows.

“Maybe we should start heading up,” she said.

Loki blinked.

“Is something the matter?” Loki said.

“No,” said Natasha. She stood up. “But we should get busy.”

Loki stood up as well. Natasha started heading towards the door. Loki suddenly felt this overwhelming sense of discomfort. Normally, when someone was walking away, he had driven them to it on purpose. For the first time in a long time, he had been going along with a conversation, and suddenly lost direction of it without wanting to.

“Had I said something wrong?” Loki said.

“What?” Natasha said.

Loki knew when Natasha was lying. She may have thought she had the upper hand in the Helicarrier a long time ago, but the truth was that people had a very different tactic of lying for a purpose as opposed to lying to protect themselves. Loki was very accustomed to the differences.

“I don’t mean to offend you,” he said.

It was true. He had little reason to. She was being kind to him, and held his arm when he shook in Selvig’s office. She was having a conversation with him without trying to take anything from him. It was more than he could ask for.

Natasha took in a deep breath. She looked upward as if she could see through the brick walls towards Erik’s study, where Tyrfing was kept. Her shoulders stiffened.

“It’s nothing,” she said. A beat. “Really. It isn’t.”

Loki pursed his lips. On any other occasion, friend or stranger or foe, he would not have any reason to pry deeper. However, with Tyrfing unsheathed and ready to use even a small wound against any of them, he felt no security in silence.

“I’m sorry,” Loki said.

“Don’t be,” said Natasha.

She put her hands on her hips, as if she needed a moment to compose herself, look more in control than how she felt. Loki wondered if he had already lost her trust and good graces in a single conversation.

“I,” Natasha said. She then took a breath, “won’t be able to have kids anytime soon. Or ever, really.”

“Oh,” Loki said, taken a little off guard. “I must have offended you, then.”

This was not what Baldur would have done. He hardly knew who Baldur was supposed to be, but he was not going according to plan.

“Not offend,” said Natasha. “Just a knee-jerk reaction.” She let out a long breath. “There’s still adoption. But…”

Loki’s chest twinged uncomfortably.

“You would rather have your own kids than someone else’s,” he said. “Wouldn’t you?”

Natasha gave him a strange look.

“No, that’s not it,” said Natasha. “If I raise them, they’re my kids. Period. But it isn't a natural thing that I can't have...you know. Someone had taken that from me. Someone—cut that out from me.”

Her voice trailed off. Loki doubted that she was saying any of this as if she had a choice in the matter, although he could not necessarily understand why. But then again, the mortals in their day used to ask Freyja for aid in fertility—just because fewer numbers called to her now did not mean that the need had not gone somewhere else for help.

“I wasn’t planning on having a family,” said Natasha. “Even if everything was perfect, I wouldn’t necessarily have children. I could or I wouldn’t. But the fact that—someone took that away from me for their own convenience makes me no more than a tool. Which I was. I was just a tool to them. No sense of betrayal there.”

“You aren’t anyone’s tool,” said Loki.

He knew that he was the last person to talk. He had deliberately used Midgardians for his own needs with his sceptre in New York. But he had at one point been a cog in Odin’s well-oiled machine to micromanage the Nine Realms—steal a baby, lie to him, reap the benefits for Asgard. And above all, Baldur had none of these sins on his conscience. Baldur was a simple archaeologist from Lofoten whose past did not have to negate his present. No one needed to doubt him.

Natasha tutted softly.

“I try not to think that I was,” she said.

“Nothing can make you a tool, either,” said Loki. “Not even what they did to you.”

Natasha looked down. Then she smiled at the ground and shook her head.

“You’re kind,” she said.

“I don’t say it to be kind,” said Loki. He was anything but. And Baldur was kind by tenfold.

Natasha gave Loki an appraising look. He wondered if she could see through his words, his disguise. If she was trying to root his truth from the lie, she would have a hard time trying to discern what was a lie and what was not, because Loki realized with a jolt that he was not doing or saying any of this for gain.

Then, she gave a small laugh.

“Thank you,” she said.

She looked like she meant it. Suddenly Loki’s heart felt strange, as if each beat felt like a breath rather than a pounding, heavy drum that it had been for all this time. Then it ached, because he realized that he hadn’t made anyone happy for a long time, and how much he used to want to please everyone a long time ago.

Natasha suddenly cleared her throat, then looked up again towards Erik’s lab.

“I think they are already up there,” she said. “We should really get to work.”

Loki nodded. He hungered for more of this. He knew he should not feel so affirmed about affirming others. It seemed incredibly selfish to him, but he couldn’t help it. He failed at every turn, at every attempt and touch. The least he could have was to touch at least one thing and not break them. Baldur would do it for doing it’s sake, but Loki was more selfish than Baldur. He liked to feel vaguely appreciated.

Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe.

He choked, as if the air had been sucked right out of his lungs. Natasha’s eyes widened.

“Baldur?” she said.

Loki’s head spun violently. He felt the fire in his blood. It boiled until he felt it disintegrate his bones, his nerves, his skin, his seidr. His seidr clawed at his core, bottled in to keep the Norns from failing their end of the deal, and yet raging at the sudden change in the air—the violent change several stories above their heads. 

He took a sharp gasp and crumpled. Natasha immediately caught him by the arms before he could fall to his knees.

“What’s going on?” she said, breathless. “Are you all right?”

Loki was shaken to the core. He breathed raggedly, the horror dawning on him as he pieced together the only thing that could cause his seidr to react like that. He felt the Soul Gem’s power pulsate both in and around him like a painful, infected wound.

“Tyrfing,” he choked out. “Oh, hell. Someone used Tyrfing.”

-

Tony was hunched over in his seat. He dug his fingernails into his scalp until he swore he could dig his hair out from the root.

“I don’t know if you should do this, Tony,” said Vision.

“Work with me here,” Tony said through clenched teeth.

He took in a deep breath. A single inhale flooded him with a fresh wave of painful thoughts that seemed to knock him back to shore.

“It might make me stronger,” Tony said. “Build immunity and resist.”

“This isn’t a disease,” said Vision. “This might weaken you further.”

“I can think about how fine I am when I’m ten miles away from this thing,” said Tony. “I could tell you about anything without that thing around, but once Tyrfing is in the room it’s a different story. If I can’t figure out how to be safe with it around, then there’s no point.”

He swallowed hard. Judging by the fact that it was only him and Vision in the lab, as well as Erik running tests and observations, he was the only one who thought of this loophole. Or maybe he was the only one who struggled this hard with Tyrfing to need to take this precaution. Maybe Steve was the one who unsheathed it, but that did not make Tony any less a candidate to wield it.

“What do you struggle with the most?” Vision said. “When you are near Tyrfing?”

‘Near’ was a bit of an overstatement. Tyrfing was on the other side of the long laboratory, and Tony’s back was practically pressed against the opposite wall. Tony took in a deep breath. His stomach turned painfully.

“A lot of things,” said Tony. “I don’t know.”

“We have time,” Vision said. “You don’t have to limit yourself.”

Clink, clink. Erik moved aside some tools on his work bench. He moved slowly, as if he did not want to draw attention to himself while Tony and Vision spoke privately. He sometimes stopped and stared at Tyrfing, perhaps with disgust at its reminiscent powers, before continuing with his work.

“We don’t have that much time,” Tony said. “We have to figure out how to remove the stone now that we know there are ghost hands keeping it on the sword.”

He mopped his brow. There was sweat. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Tony?” said Vision.

“You talk first,” Tony said.

He did not know if it would make a difference, but he was convinced that it would at least keep his heart from racing. He did not like to think more on what was wracking his mind now that Tyrfing lay so close. There was too much and too little, some of it more predictable than others, and some that may be petty, or deserved. Maybe if Vision shared what was on his mind, it would set the bar of how far Tony could be vulnerable, how much he could reveal and how much was better left unsaid.

“Me?” Vision said.

“Yeah,” said Tony. “You have trouble with it too, don’t you? You need something, too.”

Vision hesitated. He looked towards Tyrfing silently, his shoulders tensing up. Erik was running his hands back and forth through his thinning hair, in some workload frustration.

“I don’t know,” Vision said softly.

Maybe Tony imagined it, but he thought he saw the sword twitch. He stood up.

“Vision,” he said.

“I don’t know how to feel,” Vision said. “Perhaps I don’t.”

“Don’t listen to that ass Baldur,” said Tony. “You do feel. And they are real.”

“I am no different than that stone,” said Vision. “The only difference is that Thor had intervened.”

Tony’s lips tightened into a thin line. Vision clenched and unclenched his fist.

“How do I know I will not affect you Avengers in the same way one day?” said Vision. “What if Thor’s intervention is only temporary?”

“Maybe it is,” Tony said. “Because you have your own mind, like the rest of us. You aren’t a robotic stone, or whatever the Soul Gem is. You’re different.”

“But it is also like me,” said Vision. “It has just as much potential to be a monstrous thing as it is now, as I could have been, had been.”

“Are you pitying it?” said Tony.

Vision said nothing. Tony stood from his seat.

“It’s not a person, Vision,” said Tony.

“Neither am I,” said Vision. “The stone as it is now is more sentient than the Mind Gem was before Thor had given me life.”

“Yeah, and it’s an asshole,” said Tony. “Imagine how much worse it would be if it had a mouth. It already has hands, and it tried to hurt Wanda.”

Vision stiffened. He jumped when Erik shattered a vial.

“Sorry,” Erik said, sweeping the glass from the floor.

“You shouldn’t stay in here long, Selvig,” said Tony.

Erik shook his head. He really looked awful compared to the last time Tony saw him in New York City, and even then he looked a mess after the Mind Gem had influenced him to create the alien portal. The news reel of Erik running around a UNESCO Heritage Site in his birthday suit was still uploaded on YouTube, after all. It was no mystery that Erik was not comfortable around yet another gem.

“If Jane going off with Thor had something to do with these Infinity Stones, I’ll do my part,” said Erik. “Send me those photos you took of the hands to my email, won’t you?”

Tony quickly obliged on his mobile. Erik sank into his spindly desk, tapping away at a heavy laptop. Tony dodged the clutter all over the laboratory, making his way towards Tyrfing. He stopped himself halfway, his mind whirring with activity.

“Whose hands are they?” said Tony.

“You think they belong to someone?” said Vision.

“They’ve come from somewhere,” Tony said. “Didn’t Baldur say that there were souls in the gem?”

The moment that realization slipped from his mouth, Tony felt sick. Vision moved forward to join Tony’s side. Erik rose from his seat immediately, sickened.

“That is a theory,” Vision said. “We do not know if that is the case.”

“It probably is,” said Erik. “Thor said that the stones have immeasurable power. Infinite space, infinite boundaries…”

“How did they get in there?” Vision said.

Tony remembered those pale, pearly hands suddenly stretching towards Wanda. He felt bile rise into his mouth.

“The sword is its tool,” said Tony. “I bet that once it runs itself through someone, that’s how they get to their soul.”

How many were already in there, swirling like the clouds of a maelstrom? The stone was small, no bigger than an eye encrusted into the blade. It looked too small to be a threat, too tiny to house any more than half a soul. And yet it was allegedly a thousand years old or more, and with a reputation that even the old Vikings had shuddered from.

“What are they doing in there?” Tony said.

They must have been violent deaths. Bloody massacres, cold blooded, calculated, murders. A sword was a weapon of war. But Baldur had had a point—swords did not cause as much collateral damage as, for example, a bomb.

Tony’s heart sank. He gripped the edge of the table.

When Vision had asked him, what is on your mind, Tony did not have enough breath to answer him. He seethed against Steve for being so perfect, and yet so hurtful, for betraying Tony’s father who had worshipped him in favour of the man who had killed him, for not affirming that Tony for once was trying to do something good with his life with the Sokovia Accords. He crumbled within himself as he tallied just how very much he had to make up for, from the war lord past to his flawed present. He may not be religious but he knew that in any faith he did not have enough lambs or calves or doves to sacrifice to amount to the blood he had shed.

“Tony,” said Vision. “You are not alone.”

Tony did not know where Vision thought to say this. He could not look up from the table.

“Do you believe me?” said Vision.

His voice sounded far away. Tony pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead.

“Tony,” said Vision. “You can talk to me.”

“I can’t,” said Tony. “You don’t get it.”

He never heard his voice so brittle before. Vision did not have the blood on his hands as Tony did. Vision did not have that burden.

“But I can still listen,” said Vision. “I’ll still listen, whatever you say.”

Tony gave a bark of laughter.

“Wanda still doesn’t like being in the same room as me,” said Tony. “You sure you won’t change your mind?”

Vision did not move away. Tony gulped in a deep breath of air.

“I have so much blood on my hands,” Tony said.

Vision let out a small breath.

 “You don’t get it,” said Tony. “That’s the Mind Gem. You had no control.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t listen,” said Vision.

Tony scratched the back of his neck. His hands were shaking. They just needed something to do.

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Vision. “You have every right to fear me. To suspect me. I was designed for evil, and somehow changed. But you haven’t left me, either.”

“You changed,” said Tony.

“And so have you,” said Vision.

Tony gritted his teeth. Vision pushed at Tony’s shoulders so that he would face him.

“No one is leaving you alone,” said Vision.

“Steve left,” Tony said.

The moment he voiced that hidden hatched deeply buried into his heart rather than in the ground, he felt like a quivering little child. This was it, wasn’t it, he thought bitterly and painfully. This was what he was so afraid of, and so pained from. Steve had walked away, and it didn’t matter if Tony could understand the reason why he did or not, or the fact that here they were again, working together even though the blood had gone bad between them. He had left—so did Pepper, so did Natasha, emotionally, so did Thor, who didn’t care enough to come down, so did the Avengers as a whole.

“I’m here,” Vision said. “I know I’m not much. I know that not everyone would even see me as—human company. I know that I might not be enough—but you aren’t alone, and I don’t want you to be. You’re my friend.”

Tony gave a short laugh, his throat tightening. He could feel his pulse racing, heavy with his own blood flowing through him, waiting to be untethered to himself. He couldn’t imagine a sharp blade hurting too badly.

“I’ve fucked up every relationship I’ve had,” said Tony. “One way or another.”

“I’m your friend,” Vision said firmly.

A cloud lifted. In a moment, it felt easier to breathe. Tony felt heat prick at the lining of his eyes. He quickly dragged a hand over his face. The idea of Tyrfing bit too deeply, and he shied away from it immediately. He took in deep breaths, one after the other, and felt his heartbeat soften, as if he had melted from being made of painful stone to the flesh and blood he was afraid he would not be.

He looked up to Vision. Vision was ambiguously robotic, essentially human. Baldur would probably argue that Vision was too mechanical to have a heart, or friendship, but Vision had enough of a soul to quiver under the Soul Gem. He had enough life in him to call Tony his friend, and suddenly Tony felt the relief that made his eyes burn.

“I owe you one, Vision,” he said, because saying ‘thank you’ would make his throat swell. “I do.”

Vision smiled. He put a hand on Tony’s shoulder, not unlike how Steve would do it. Then, his eyes widened.

“Erik,” said Vision.

Tony spun around. Erik was opening the gas hood where Tyrfing lay. Tony felt his heart jump into his throat.

“I still get nightmares, actually,” Erik said. “Of Loki. And New York. What I did. And created.”

“Erik,” Vision said. “Stop.”

Erik reached for Tyrfing. The scabbard lay uselessly by its side, still perfectly sealed and impenetrable.  He looked at Tony and Vision from over his shoulders. He had never looked well since the last time Tony had seen him. He never had green eyes until now.

“You think you’re guilty for people’s deaths?” Erik said. “I can’t even be a superhero to make up for it.”

“Erik!”

Tony ran forward. He did not know how he would stop Erik, only that he must.

Erik only smiled sadly. He lifted Tyrfing up from the gas hood.

“Tell Jane that I’m sorry,” he said. “Whenever she comes back.”

He cut himself open.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO so much for picking this story back up and reading!! I'm especially thankful to you readers out there who have been following this story since it started (and got abandoned....) in 2016. TWO YEARS AGO. You guys are the real MVPs, honestly. You're so loyal and generous with your time. I appreciate you all so much.

They sat silently in the lecture hall, which was thick and musky with the effects of a broken air conditioning unit and defunct stained glass windows. While the rosy red and gold kept the flashing A&E lights from bleeding into their line of view, they could still hear what was happening outside, where a growing crowd of students and faculty crowded around the entrance of the science building.

There were better things that they could be doing. Instead, they grew numb in unison, sitting listlessly as if they were waiting for a lecture but the professor was late. Tyrfing sat on one of the neighbouring seats, equidistant from everyone. No one dared to clean the blade.  

Suddenly, Tony stood up. He ran his hand worryingly over his face, and when he paced he didn’t pay attention to how he would bump his legs against the tight rows of chairs.

“We shouldn’t have taken it,” said Tony. “We lied.”

“We had no other choice, Tony,” said Steve.

“Our choice was to _lie_ ,” said Tony. “Not only lie, we covered it up. We covered it up like we were the ones trying to hide something—”

“We are trying to hide something,” Loki said tersely.

Tony swallowed hard. Natasha elbowed Loki and shook her head.

“We did this to him,” said Tony.

“The Soul Gem did this to him,” said Sam.

“Yeah, and who brought the Soul Gem to him?” said Tony. “Who roped him into this? We did. We’re responsible. And then, as if that wasn’t enough—”

“What would have been better?” said Steve. “Leave Tyrfing at the scene as evidence for the police and ambulance to pick up and examine, and then have the Gem affect them as well?”

“We _planted_ evidence at the scene instead,” said Tony. “We took away the real weapon, and manipulated the wound so it would look smaller and look like he died in a freak accident and tampered with the security cameras—”

“We can’t do everything by the book, Stark,” Natasha said. “If we left it as it was, more people would be in danger.”

“What about Erik, huh?” said Tony. “He just killed himself in front of us, what about him?”

Wanda stared listlessly at her hands throughout the argument. Loki was more focussed on her than what anyone else was saying. Every now and then, she would rub her fingers together, as if to clean off a stubborn stain, but her face was blank, rendering it incredibly readable to Loki.

“We have Tyrfing now, like it or not,” Sam said. “We can’t go up to the police now and hand it to them.”

“Speaking of Tyrfing,” said Natasha. She pointed to Tyrfing, and its sheath that still lay beside it. The sheath now had a wide opening at its base. “If we put it back in its sheath, we’re doomed. If we keep it out of its sheath, we’re doomed. So now what?”

“Sheathe it,” Wanda said at the same time that Loki said, “Keep it.”

“Keep it?” Tony said incredulously. “Baldur, what the hell?”

“We won’t get any closer to destroying the Gem if we sheathe the sword,” Loki said. “We hardly understand how one even unsheathes it in the first place. If we put it back, who knows when we can open it again on our terms?”

“But then we have the sword right there, with that Gem possessing us,” Wanda said. “That Gem is—it will try to take us like it did to Erik!”

“It’ll try to possess us even when it is sheathed,” said Loki. “You can’t protect yourself from it.”

Wanda clenched her hands into fists, but she did not argue. Loki turned to Tony.

“Are you sure that Erik had meant to kill himself?” Loki said. “Are you sure that it was not Tyrfing that forced his hand?”

“What do you mean, force his hand?” said Vision when Tony grew more visibly distressed by the question.

“If it attacked Erik, rather than Erik using it,” said Loki. “Or if it wiped Erik of his own will. Or if—”

“It was his will,” Tony said. He held the back of a seat tightly. “It was his own mind. His choice. He knew—he knew exactly what he was doing.”

“But how do you know that?” said Loki.

Tony opened his mouth and then closed it. Vision stood up and put a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“It was what he said,” said Vision. “The way he spoke. He was quiet—Erik was quiet the whole time, while Tony and I were talking in the lab. Like he was listening or—thinking.”

“What did he say?” said Natasha.

“That he still felt guilty about New York,” said Vision. “About what Loki had him do. And that he still had nightmares about it.”

Loki felt a sudden jolt in the base of his spine. He did not need to turn his head to feel Wanda’s gaze turn towards him.

“Oh, Erik,” Sam said softly.

“If it weren’t for what Loki made him do, there couldn’t have been any other reason for Erik to kill himself like that,” Tony said, his voice thick. “If it weren’t for that damn bastard—”

“And then he just—did it?” said Wanda. “Just like that?”

Loki kept his gaze pointedly fixed on the blackboard, where a professor’s old notes about the path of the Silk Road were still smudged on the clouded surface. There was a time, after Loki had descended deep into the void and deeper into madness, when he began to curse Odin rather than accept Odin’s curses. Why did you say no, he had once thought as The Other groomed him to take on the sceptre. Why did you say no when you knew that it would kill me, why did you not care if it would kill me—?

If it weren’t for that damn bastard…

“He—” Vision took in a deep breath. It was a strange concept, like watching a tea kettle sigh miserably. “He asked us to tell Jane that he was sorry, and then—he slit his throat.”

The blood drained from Loki’s face.

“That’s awful,” Wanda said. She held a shaking hand over her mouth. “That’s so—so awful. Did he have family? Who’s going to have to tell them?”

“Jane Foster was practically his family,” said Tony. “They knew each other for years. Once she comes back to Earth, she’s going to have to find out—”

Whatever else Tony was saying, Loki did not hear. It was like the rest of the conversation become cotton that was gradually crammed deeper into his ears, until his own thoughts became a haze. There was at first a formidable nothingness in his chest, which had sustained him for so long, but now his ribs were beginning to crack as that nothingness swelled too large like a black hole. Empty promises and fragile promises, all twisting into a rope inside of him that he would wish nothing more than to tie around his neck, if only that would be the way to resolve them.

I never wanted to save you.

(I do. I do. I do. I have to. I have to want to. I have to have wanted to. Please. I didn’t mean it. I want to. I want to. I take it back. I want to. Wanted.)

He buried his face in his hands. His hands were cold, but his hot breath pressed against his palm made him feel like he was burning.

“What now?” Natasha said.

A tired sigh was everyone else’s response. Erik had died, and yet it felt like the avalanche had yet to fall over their heads. If it had, at least they would be too busy being crushed by the weight, suffocated into delirium and grief, rather than sweat in fear of a terrible collapse that they could only imagine happening again, and again.

Sam looked at each of their faces, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. For a moment, he was going to slump back in his chair, because he was tired, but instead he sat up straighter and turned in his seat so that he faced them all.

“Let’s take a break,” said Sam.

“We don’t have—” started Natasha.

“Time for that, I know,” said Sam. “But we need to rest. Just for the rest of the day. We can regroup later. But just for today. Okay?”

Natasha did not say anything. She looked to Steve and Tony, who were still not looking at each other. When it became clear that neither of them were going to make the call, she sighed heavily and nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “Everyone just…take five.”

* * *

“Again.”

Loki ripped another sheet of the newspaper in half before tossing it in front of Wanda. Wanda did not look at Loki as she let the paper fall to her feet, among the growing pile of misshapen, wrinkled and mismatched paper that had previously been ripped up and then shakily knitted back together by magic. She did not bend to pick it up, which made Loki impatient.

“Come on,” said Loki. “How are you supposed to practise if you will not do anything?”

Wanda wiped her eyes vigorously with her arm. She glared at Loki with reddening eyes. Loki clenched his teeth.

“Don’t give me that face,” said Loki. “This is imminent to work on. This is an important skill.”

“I know,” Wanda said with a brittle voice.

“Then go on,” said Loki. “Practise makes perfect.”

“I—” Wanda paused before shave a mirthless laugh. She kicked at the pile of paper so that it went flying towards Loki’s face. “You’re kidding me. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Loki said.

“What’s the meaning of _this?”_ Wanda said. She picked up some of the crumpled paper and shook it in front of Loki’s face, until paper fell down onto his shoes. “I’m—tired, I can’t concentrate, and you keep making me do these practises over and over again of putting ripped paper back together—”

“Molecular manipulation is a gift, Wanda,” said Loki. “You can put back together that which was completely broken. Are you blind to the potential of that?”

Wanda sputtered, trying to force out words that couldn’t come close to defining her emotions. She threw the rest of the paper down to the ground and strode towards the window of the locked classroom that Loki had barricaded them in, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

When she did not spit back venom, Loki realised that perhaps he was in the wrong of this outburst. He looked down at the floor, with its sheets of newspaper that Wanda painstakingly stitched back together as if they had always been untouched, except for where letters were mismatched and where photos were misaligned by a hair. She did do a good job, Loki admitted, for someone who hated the lesson.

“Wanda,” said Loki.

He bent down to pick up the pieces of paper. He didn’t have to, he knew. But it was better than standing still and having nothing else to concentrate on.

 “Sam told us to rest,” said Wanda. “And you drag me to keep doing these lessons—”

“Why don’t you want them?” said Loki. “I thought you wanted them.”

“Erik just _died,_ ” said Wanda.

Loki felt a jolt of terror course through his blood at the name.

“And practising your magic will _help_ that,” Loki said, hastily trying to cover up the raw wound with that which he could control. “This is something to concentrate on other than—”

“One of our team members just killed himself, how am I supposed to concentrate?” Wanda said.

“You grieve him?” Loki said. “You barely knew him.”

It was the wrong thing to say, no matter how genuine of a question it was. Wanda’s face turned red.

“I know that,” she said in a harsh whisper. “I know that I didn’t know him. I barely knew anything about him. But he still killed himself out of—because of that Gem. And I had to close up his wound so that no one would know that he cut his throat, they would just think he died from a lab accident, I had to sew him back up like he was a rag after he was already dead. I couldn’t even help him, I was just—hiding the truth.”

Loki did not respond. Wanda swallowed hard. She rested her forehead against the dirty glass window, staring out into the campus. The campus was almost empty, with all classes cancelled and the students avoiding the routes of emergency vehicles that kept coming and going.

“If I had come earlier, maybe I could have sewed up his wounds and saved him,” said Wanda. “I was going to come earlier, but I was feeling so bad this morning that Sam told me maybe I should go on a walk…go see the Viking ship museum or something and I decided to walk in the park and just have some time and when I got here—”

“Erik’s death isn’t your fault, Wanda,” Loki said.

Wanda avoided making eye contact with Loki. Loki raised his voice by a little, to make the point clearer.

“Don’t reprimand yourself for giving yourself what you needed,” Loki said.

“I could have helped,” Wanda said, her voice small.

“So could anyone,” said Loki. “You weren't choosing yourself over Erik. I could have helped. I could have stopped Erik from taking the sword. I could have—”

He stopped, long after the both of them figured out what he was about to say. They stood speechlessly, meeting each other’s eyes but feeling like they have misaimed nonetheless.

“Never mind,” Loki said. He shoved the papers into the wastebasket. “Lessons are over today.”

Wanda’s gaze followed him as he picked the rest of the paper off of the ground. Loki did not look up. Wanda hesitated before leaving her refuge of the sunlit spot under the window to help him clean up the paper. Loki stiffened when she moved even a breath closer to him.

“Did I upset you?” Wanda said quietly.

Loki looked incredulously at her.

“What?” he said.

“Had I said something…never mind.”

She looked away again, crumpling the papers in balls and tossing them into the wastebasket.

“I’m not upset at you,” Loki said. “Wanda, you haven’t done anything wrong.” He paused, and then lowered himself onto his knees. “You’re improving a lot, by the way. Your magic.”

“Thanks,” Wanda mumbled. She brushed her hair behind her ear. “You’re a good teacher. It’s just today…”

Loki nodded even if he did not understand. He would rather flood himself with distractions and work, dam the wild thoughts that were threatening to drown him with duties and action. But he supposed that Wanda must be different. She somehow needed those emotions to wash over her.

“What would you rather do?” said Loki.

“I don’t know,” Wanda said. “I want to just do something that doesn’t have to be a life or death situation. Like I could just be mundane, for once.” She paused. “Do you want to go to the Viking ship museum?”

Loki raised his eyebrows.

“I know more than the museum does,” he said.

“I know that,” said Wanda. “Maybe you could tell me the real stories, then.”

“Oh—”

It had not occurred to Loki that she had meant if he would like to go with her. It had not utterly confused Loki why she would be so upset about these private lessons. She was shaken by the suicide of a man that Loki had driven to madness. If he could walk away from himself, he wouldn’t miss the chance. This shattered his expectation.

“With you,” he said lamely.

Wanda shrugged.

“Sam and Natasha went off somewhere,” she said. “Tony is taking time alone. Steve as well. I don’t think either of them would really want to hang out. Maybe you, Vision, and I can go.”

“The robot man?” said Loki.

“He’s not a robot,” said Wanda.

“He’s not human,” said Loki.

“Neither are you,” said Wanda. “What difference does that make?” When Loki mulishly did not respond, Wanda sighed. “I’m inviting Vision. Whether or not you want to come is up to you.”

Loki had half a mind to follow Wanda out of spite, and to make sure that Vision wasn’t about to do anything suspicious to her. What Loki expected Vision to be capable of doing, he did not know.

“I’ll find my own rest,” Loki said.

Wanda sighed. If Loki didn’t know better, he would have thought she might be disappointed.

“Are _you_ okay?” said Wanda.

“Why are you asking me that?” said Loki.

“Because,” said Wanda, “you—you knew him before, didn’t you?”

It was an impressively tactful way of asking Loki how he had a hand in Erik’s suicide. Loki almost admired the elegance of the question.

“My brother knew him better,” said Loki. “They were friends, I think.”

“Oh,” Wanda said. A beat. “Do you think that you will tell him?”

Loki let out a breath. He straightened from the floor and brushed off his knees the dust that perpetually clung to academic floors.

“Break the news to Thor about yet another loss?” said Loki. “I’ve long exceeded my quota for that.”

* * *

The science building was still blocked off, caution tape stretched over the glass doors. Not that it mattered. Tyrfing was not in there anymore. Erik was not in there anymore either, or anywhere, really. He was wherever Frigga was, and Jane Foster. If he would be so lucky.

Still, Loki paced along the walkways that led to the building. Wanda chided him to do more than just brood for the next twelve hours, and then asked him again if he would like to go to the Viking museum with her and Vision. Loki made up an excuse that he wanted to get some reading done in the library, and when she asked what reading he was planning to do, he said, ‘Private reading,’ and left.

Now that he stood alone in the campus, he was wondering if he might actually regret it. He only began to think about it when he realized how he knew no one to speak to, and was left to his own devices. And yet the moment he was invited to follow them, he did not let it be an option.

Agitated, he turned on his heel and left the campus, scaring off ravens from his path. He couldn’t be with people, but he couldn’t be alone either.

All of a sudden, he thought of Thor—not in the way of that tightening, breathless pain, but with that raw and needy ache that made him feel small again. He missed Thor. It was a simple sentiment, one that Loki tried to tease out a deeper, alternative explanation that would circle back to some angrier, complex source. It would always return to the same childish truth. He just wanted his brother.

He doesn’t want you, Loki told himself. Stop dreaming.

He needed to find Tony. Tony was the one who had taken Tyrfing, probably because he had his own private space to keep it. Perhaps everyone else needed a break to grieve Erik and recover from the shock, but Loki did not. He needed to work. It sounded better than to feel.

But as he was about to find Tony, Sam found him instead.

“Baldur?” Sam said. “Hey, Baldur.”

He was calling out from the other side of the road. If Loki had not turned to find the source of the sound, he would have pretended that he did not hear and kept walking. But Sam was already jogging across the pedestrian crossing—he was in exercise clothing, and had been heading in the direction of the Frogner Park.

“Thought that was you,” said Sam. “Where are you heading?”

“The library,” Loki said, forming his new backstory. “Just wanted to do some private reading.” He considered his options. “What about you?”

“About to take a run,” said Sam. “Clears the head, you know? And when I need to sort of just pound it out…”

Loki nodded wordlessly. He gave Sam an appraising look.

“You really know what you’re doing, don’t you?” said Loki.

“What do you mean?” said Sam.

“With all of this,” said Loki. “With Tyrfing.”

Sam gave a weak chuckle.

“Let’s get out of pedestrian traffic,” he said.

They squeezed of the crowd until their backs were pressed against the walls of a corner pharmacy.

“That’s a pretty generous statement,” said Sam. “This is uncharted territory. We’ve gone over that. A soul-killing magical stone? Way above my pay grade.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, exactly,” said Loki. “I don’t assume you know what to do with an Infinity Stone. But dealing with the way it corrupts your mindset and drags down your thoughts—you know what you’re doing, resisting it.”

“Ah,” Sam said.

“What’s VA counselling?” said Loki. Sam raised his eyebrows. “Natasha had mentioned it at one point.”

“Veteran Affairs counselling,” said Sam. “You know, for people who were in the military who need help dealing with—well, often it’s got to do with PTSD, but it can also be other things. Mental illnesses. Self-esteem. Difficult coping mechanisms.”

The definition only broadened Loki’s confusion.

“What’s PTSD?” said Loki.

“My bad,” said Sam. “Sorry, I forgot—some things might not translate. It’s short for post-traumatic stress disorder. Anyway, I help veterans cope with their thoughts and emotions and sort of teach them different tools to help them overcome issues they’ve got. So when Tyrfing came along…it’s not really the same, but it’s not that different.”

Loki nodded mutely. What a strange profession, he thought. If only he understood it.

“What will happen next?” he said.

Sam took in a deep breath.

“We’ll regroup,” said Sam. “We’ll--probably have to move cities or something. We can’t put that university at risk anymore.” Sam looked a little sheepish. “We also can’t really get into the building without faculty permission anymore, either.”

“No,” said Loki. “I mean about Erik.”

Sam bit his lip.

“They’ll find and inform his next of kin,” said Sam. “Or his emergency contact, whoever that is. I reckon there will be a funeral. I don’t--I never knew the guy, really.”

“But do you still grieve him?” said Loki.

“Yes and no,” said Sam. Loki waited for Sam to elaborate, but Sam did not. “Did you ever know him?”

Loki looked away. He scratched at an invisible scab on his knuckle, which he swore was there even if his disguise did not show it.

“Why would I know him?” said Loki.

“I don’t know,” said Sam. “Maybe as an archaeologist--whatever you are--you two would have crossed into the same academia circles.”

“I don’t know him,” said Loki. “Archaeologists and astrophysicists are two entirely different fields.”

“I know that,” Sam said. He stretched his arms over his head. “All right, I should probably get--”

“Why would he apologize to Jane Foster?” said Loki.

Sam paused. He turned towards Loki, but Loki did not have the nerve to return the eye contact.

“He probably knew that it would hurt her, if she found out what he did,” said Sam.

“I know that,” Loki said. “But why her, of all people?”

Sam furrowed his brow. Loki began to feel the ache, and now he did not know what to do with it. It felt too late to cover, to compartmentalize what was already being pried open, which should have already been ripped apart long before now. It was overwhelming enough to feel the guilt and sorrow for Thor--and it was all that Loki thought himself capable of handling. To feel it for more than one person--well. 

“They were close, apparently,” said Sam. “Maybe they were best friends. Or she was like a daughter to him. I don’t know.”

“Would he not have done it if she was there?” said Loki.

“Oh,” Sam said, sounding a little taken aback. “I don’t know. It doesn’t always work that way.”

“That’s true,” Loki echoed. He had looked Thor into the eyes when he first let go. “But none of us were his friends. Perhaps it would have helped.”

Sam stayed silent. He cleared his throat, before lightly bouncing his knees up and down in a warmup routine.

“You like jogging?” said Sam.

“What?” said Loki.

“You know, taking a run.”

“What are you running from?”

“Nothing,” Sam said, unable to hide a laugh. “It’s just for exercise.”

Loki gaped at Sam. And here he thought sparring was boring.

“I’ll pass,” said Loki.

Sam smiled wryly.

“Then I’ll go off on my own,” he said. “You should—you know, get some rest, though. Something.”

“I will,” said Loki. “Thank you.”

Sam gave a hasty salute before darting off towards the park again, running at a steady pace that Loki saw little to no point of (what good was a steady pace if one was running from a bilgesnipe?). He turned to the opposite direction and continued on his way, towards next to nothing.

Tell Jane that I’m sorry, Erik had said.

(Tell Thor—Jane said—tell Thor that it’ll be okay)

I’m sorry, Loki thought.

His pace grew brisker, until he was blind to the path upon which he walked. Even though the sun never set in this part of the earth, not for now, the chill sank into him until even the fire that terrorized him could not touch his core anymore.

He did not know Erik. He had never really cared to know Erik. Only that he was a brilliant scientist, and that he was waiting for Jane this whole time.  Up until the very end.

She was a liar, Loki thought. His throat burned. A damn poor liar.

This is the only way, Jane had said. The better way.

I’m sorry, Loki thought.

(Loki, Jane said. Tell Thor that it’ll be okay)

I’m sorry.

His vision blurred. When he raised his fingers to his cheeks, he felt that they were wet. He stumbled to a stop in his tracks, staring at his fingertips as if he had never believed himself capable of this.

“Why?” he choked out. He almost laughed at himself, because he could still feel hot tears collecting on his cheeks, even after he had wiped them away. “Why am I…?”

_I’m sorry, Jane Foster._

(Loki, Jane said. It’ll be okay)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for supporting this work! Honestly, because I really want to ride this wave before life gets crazy, I haven't been really good about proofreading or anything, so the fact that you all still enjoy it and give me your thoughts really means so much to me. That really gets me going, that people still want to read this fic after all this time. And especially to you folks who had to read the fic FROM THE BEGINNING again just to remember what happens in it in order to continue reading it!! That is so much commitment and time and energy and that really means a lot to me. This chapter was strangely easy to write, which I'm grateful for because honestly I can only write on the weekends nowadays, and only sometimes. Thank you all so much !!

“Oh,” said Loki. “So my company isn’t enough?”

Jane sheepishly ignored Loki. Her backpack was almost twice the size of her body, and made her nearly tip over if she were not stubbornly grounded in her large boots. Loki looked to Thor, feeling almost insulted if he wasn’t so incredulous.

“Really?” he said.

“Mind your manners,” Thor said.

“You’re bringing her along too?” said Loki. “Are you mistaking this for some romantic getaway?”

“ _No_ ,” both Jane and Thor said mulishly.

“I want to help,” Jane said. She nodded to Thor. “And I _can_ help. I was the one who figured out the whole convergence debacle. And I had an Infinity Stone possess me. If anyone is going to know a thing or two about Infinity Stones, it will be me.”

“All three of us here have handled an Infinity Stone,” Loki said. “It’s nothing special. Thor, a word.”

He beckoned for Thor to retreat to some quieter corner. He could feel Jane’s stare needle him in the back as Thor acquiesced to Loki. After an adequate distance, Loki spun sharply to Thor.

“Are you out of your mind?” he said. “She’s dead weight.”

“She’s capable,” said Thor. “I’m not an idiot, Loki. I’m not going to assume that she should follow us right into the belly of a beast. But she’s intelligent. We need more than just power and magic to find the Soul Stone.”

Loki’s eyebrow twitched. He had apparently been under the wrong assumption that he would have covered any requirement of intelligence in this group.

“Was this your idea or hers?” said Loki.

“Hers,” Thor said. “Do you really think I would go around asking all the people in my life to join me on this journey?”

“You asked me,” Loki said.

Thor gave a wry smile.

“Yes, and don’t make me regret it already,” he said.

“You hadn’t stopped to ask me if your _girlfriend_ could come along.”

“Excuse me,” Jane said from several paces back. “I’m right here and I can _hear_ you.”

Loki glared at her. Jane strode right up to the two of them, a fire in her eyes.

“Good for you,” he said. “So what difference do you think that you can make?”

“If the Soul Gem gets into the wrong hands, we’re all doomed,” said Jane. “I’m not going to leave it to Thor to save the universe if I’ve got any strengths that I can use to help. Isn’t that what you’re doing?”

Loki looked to Thor. He was almost irritated enough to answer her. But he was also not confident enough to tell her.

“Are you that desperate to stick close to Thor?” he said.

“I am desperate to protect my _planet_ ,” Jane said. “My friends and family. My little town in New Mexico. That’s what is at stake here. Not my relationship with Thor.”

Loki clenched his teeth. Jane did not break eye contact with him. She stood with the weight of the universe on her shoulders, packed tightly in her bulging backpack. He looked to Thor, who looked neither flattered nor slighted. Instead, Thor’s gaze burned with that same passion and the same desire to something other than his own needs. In short, he looked like a king.

It made Loki feel out of place, but this was nothing unusual. He let out a breath.

“Let’s hope you do enough of a job so that those friends of yours can thank you for it,” he said.

Because he wasn’t going to.

 

“I had told Surtr that there was a mortal on Muspelheim,” Loki had told Thor.

This had made Thor stop in his tracks. It made Thor hold his breath and look at Loki in an entirely new way. Loki knew that this would happen, and he accepted it. If it would help Thor breathe another day, he would accept it.

It’s my fault that Jane is dead, Loki had told Thor. Blame me, Thor. Put the blame on me. It’s my fault.

Thor looked at Loki in a different way in that moment, which only struck Loki deep in the core. Because Loki could tell, from the look in Thor’s eyes, that Thor knew that he was lying.

* * *

 “Wanda?”

Wanda looked up from her heaping plate of heart-shaped waffles topped with berries and jam. She had almost forgot that the dessert was in front of her in the first place. Vision was watching her carefully from the other side of the café table. He was cloaked in a different form to appear more blond and human, although his bright eyes stayed the same. It was not unlike how Loki was disguising himself, ironically.

“What’s up?” she said, with an element of surprise.

“What are you thinking about?” said Vision.

Wanda shook her head. She picked up her fork to poke at the fresh waffles to feign some sort of activity.

“Nothing,” she said. “Sorry. I just got a little lost in thought. Here, try some.”

She cut off a half of the vafler for Vision to sample. Vision took it with thanks, but he still eyed her with concern.

“Would you like to talk about it?” said Vision.

“It’s really nothing,” said Wanda. “It’s nothing like—all of _that_ stuff we've been going through, with the sword. I loved going through the museum with you. I can’t believe how _enormous_ those ships were, and how preserved they were. I never went to a museum before.”

Vision smiled, relieved.

“I don’t think I have either,” said Vision. “Maybe as JARVIS, perhaps.”

“Then I’m glad we tried something new together,” Wanda said, beaming. She paused, though, and sighed, resting her chin on her hand. “But I feel strange—doing things that make me happy.”

“Why?” said Vision.

Wanda let go of her tense breath. She reached out and patted Vision’s hand so that he would not feel like she did not like being happy with him. It was the opposite—she delighted in being happy with him, but the happiness itself felt like a subject of defensive scrutiny.

“Because someone died this morning,” said Wanda. “Just this morning. I didn’t know him, but also—I didn’t not know him either.”

Maybe she wasn’t supposed to grieve, as Loki had suggested. It was very different from when her parents were killed, or when Pietro had died. She had felt her heart be torn straight out of her chest in those moments, and it took what felt like ages for something to grow back in its place, even though it didn’t look exactly the same as it had before. It had been a while since a death did not break her heart, and she felt guilty that it did not.

She took a bite of the waffle, the tang of the jam balancing with the dull softness of the waffle.

“I almost feel like I _shouldn’t_ be doing this, right after someone passed,” said Wanda. “I shouldn’t be walking around a city like a tourist, eating sweets. But I don’t know what I should be doing, either, if not that. Because I honestly don't want to look at the sword again for a long time.”

“Wanda,” said Vision. “You’re allowed to enjoy your day. It doesn’t make what has happened any less tragic. But that tragedy doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to rest, or delight in things.”

“I know,” Wanda said. “I mean, I _know_ , but I don’t—know. I know it’s true. I don’t feel it’s true, sometimes.”

Vision nodded, silent. Wanda ran her thumb over his knuckles absentmindedly; even if he was made of metal, he was still warm, which she appreciated.

“Back in Sokovia,” said Wanda, “this would be normal. After a violent protest that leaves many people dead or injured—Pietro and I would still need to cook dinner at the end of the day. And we’d still find stupid things funny, like if we saw a cat try to jump onto a window and landed in a water basin instead. I watched people be beaten for what they believe in and I stopped batting an eye. Why have I changed?”

“Why is it wrong that you’ve changed?” said Vision.

“I handle things differently,” Wanda said quietly. “Not like I used to. I cried over Erik. I didn’t even know him. It’s—it’s that Soul Gem, I’m sure. It’s rattling me up so much. I’m just doing what I always do and I don’t feel _right_ about it anymore.”

“After all that you have been through,” Vision said, “why would you feel things now the same as you did before? Does it harm you, to have hurt over this?”

“Maybe not,” said Wanda. “It—I think it hurts all the same. But I have time, now. Time to—feel. Because while Pietro and I needed to cook dinner, we also didn’t know if we would have food on the table that evening. Sometimes we would be too hungry to feel.” She looked up to Vision. “What about you? How are you feeling about this?”

Vision paused. He lifted up the other half of the heart waffle that Wanda had cut out for him.

“I’ve never really grieved before,” said Vision. “I’ve never lost anything. I know quite a lot about how the world works, having been JARVIS. Having had the Mind Gem as my source. But I have never—lost anything, or anyone. Even now, I don’t know if I have. Erik was—tragic, undoubtedly. It was wrong and sorrowful. But it wasn’t loss. Not to me.”

Wanda hummed. It suddenly struck her how surprised she was by this, even though it should have been obvious, since Vision was all but several years old. She fiercely wished that he would never have to go through it, as useless as it was to want. She also felt a sting of jealousy, however inevitable it was. But she would not tell Vision of that.

“Perhaps that makes _me_ weak,” said Vision.

“Weak?” said Wanda. “Why?”

“Because I don’t know what it means to experience heartbreak,” said Vision. “I’ve never had to survive it. In fact, I’ve suffered very little compared to all of you. I’ve never had to _survive_ , only live. If I suffer—I will be far behind in knowing how to cope with it compared to everyone else. I’m sure it means that my skin is thinner.”

“Well,” said Wanda. “Your skin is only thin because you haven’t bulked up your disguise.”

Vision gave a crooked smile. Wanda sobered. She scooted her chair closer to Vision, closer underneath the shadows of the outdoor café umbrella.

“I would never,” she said, “ever think that you are weak, Vision. You _aren’t_ weak. Anyone who believes that about you just wants to think themselves strong. And they’re the weak ones if they would think of themselves and others like that.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Vision said mildly. “They aren’t weak if they have survived.”

“They aren’t strong for being crude, either,” said Wanda.

Vision chuckled mirthlessly. He looked away, his spirit quieting until it seemed that he did not even notice Wanda’s hand still on top of his.

“I’m afraid that I may more often be the cause of suffering,” said Vision.

“That’s not true,” Wanda said. “In what way?”

“Surely you noticed,” Vision said. He sank back in his seat, his fair eyebrows furrowed. “The two times Tyrfing has been activated—being unsheathed and then being used—I was there. And the sword acts out every time I draw near it. I don’t mean to do anything, but my presence itself is harming everyone through the sword.”

“Not because of anything wrong with you,” said Wanda. “It’s probably because of the Mind Gem, and that’s not your fault. And it’s—it was bound to happen anyway. With the way that the Soul Gem works.”

“Is it bound to work this way, or when activated by another of its kind?” said Vision. He shook his head. “Either way, I need to talk to the rest of the team. I don’t think I’m doing any good being nearby.”

“You’d leave?” Wanda said, her voice faltering.

“If it would be better for everyone,” said Vision. “I may not be as affected by the stone as others are—having never suffered—but I’m only causing suffering just by being around. That is no better. I’m only hurting people by being around you. And I can’t hurt you, Wanda.”

“You won’t,” said Wanda. “If you leave—I’d be lonely without you.”

She didn’t exactly want to pull a guilt card with Vision, considering how conflicted he already felt about his part in this mess. But if Vision blamed himself, and Wanda blamed herself, and even Loki blamed himself for Erik’s death no matter how much he avoided the topic, then either they were all right or none of them were right, and at least it meant none of them were alone.

“Well,” Vision said, “I ought to ask what the others feel about it. If they don’t feel safe around me…I reckon that Baldur does not.”

“Don’t worry about him,” Wanda said, feeling a twitch of annoyance towards Loki. “He just doesn’t like working with a team.”

“What makes you say that?” said Vision.

Wanda cleared her throat, before distracting herself to cut off a piece of waffle.

“I get that vibe from him,” said Wanda.

“What do you think of him?” said Vision.

Wanda nearly choked on a berry. She coughed into the back of her hand.

“Smart fellow. Bad team player,” she said with a strained voice. “A bit cranky, too, if I’ve got to be honest. Not exactly mean, but not friendly either.”

“I wasn’t being suggestive,” Vision said cheekily.

“You wouldn’t have to,” Wanda said with a reproachful scowl.

“I only ask because he is one of your accountability partners,” said Vision. “And he is new. Newer than us, anyway.”

Wanda smiled wryly.

“He’s all right in that aspect,” she said.

“Also, it seems like he and you have private sessions of a different matter.”

Wanda felt the color drain from her face. Vision did not jab at her accusingly, but there was heavy concern in his usually stern face. She looked down to her plate immediately, taking too long to come up with a convincing lie.

“It’s not what you think,” Wanda said. “It’s not…it’s not anything.”

“I’m not asking as a scorned lover,” Vision said lightly.

“I know. I mean—not that—” Wanda wiped her brow, mortified. “How’d you know, anyway?”

It was Vision’s turn to look self-conscious. He coughed into his fist.

“I noticed a pattern of when you would leave the group,” he said.

Wanda’s cheeks burned.

“No, no, no,” she said. “He’s teaching me. He was—it’s my magic. He has these—theories about magic that I’ve been testing out. To see if it would help give me more control.”

“Do you feel very out of control?” said Vision.

“No. Yes. I mean, it wouldn’t hurt,” she said. “And it’s been good. I mean—my magic has been good. He’s been surprisingly helpful.”

“That’s good,” said Vision. He ran a finger along the edge of his plate. “If you ever need help on your magic, by the way—I know my powers are quite different from yours, but they’re from the same source, so maybe…”

Wanda could have sworn that someone had set her on fire by the feeling of her face alone. She couldn’t help but laugh formlessly, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“I appreciate that,” she said. “Maybe I’ll take that offer.” When Vision beamed, she quickly averted her gaze, before her smile could grow instinctively without her permission. “Hurry up and try that waffle. It’s no good cold.”

* * *

 The Vikings of old used to dedicate themselves to the AEsir as they took their longboats to the sea, braving the frigid storms. Little would they have known that Earth had shores far more majestic than Asgard’s.

It was midnight and yet barely nighttime, as the sun was only now dipping underneath the horizon. Loki knew that he would probably regret not getting any sleep, and that his lack of self-care was going to become more evident by tomorrow morning when they would have to return to work with Tyrfing. It was not that Loki particularly cared for this momentary vacation—the lack of palpable work only made him irritable—but the realization that the very thing that made coping, thinking, feeling, and existing all the more difficult and more painful was only one night away made Loki dread the inevitable sunrise.

Instead, he sat by the shores of Oslo’s bay, listening to the sifting sounds of the waves upon the docks. Seas were different here on Earth than they were on Asgard—they were choppier, more frigid, more far-reaching. Asgard had no need for gargantuan ships, as there was nowhere to explore other than the teetering edge into Yggdrasil. A trip that Loki would not recommend.

He leaned back until he lay flat on the dock. As the sun pulled the horizon over its head, the faint stars rose to the surface of the sky. Loki couldn’t help but cringe. He felt uncomfortably exposed.

“Sól tér sortna, sígr fold í mar,” Loki recited under his breath, “hverfa af himni heiðar stjörnur.”

Still, it felt vaguely familiar. He, Thor, and Odin used to walk along the fjords of Scandinavia in their younger years, when Midgardians were fierce and noble and not the soft, seasick beings they were now. The white cliffs and rolling fields were now scraped off the earth in favor of concrete and metal, and the descendants of the Vikings that used to follow after them now spoke an entirely new dialect and had never set foot on a proper boat in their lives. They had not yet changed the sea, but give them time and no doubt even the sight of water would be unrecognizable.

Even back then, Loki cared little for Midgard. As a child, he complained that Mother was not here, and would rather be reading about Midgard than seeing it. For some reason, as he sat on the edge of a water-lapped deck, he bitterly missed it, or at least missed Norway as it stood a thousand years ago, when he and Thor would chase each other through the fjords and sneak into mortals’ longhouses to listen to the elders tell stories about Odin and Bor as if their father and grandfather were gods.

“Geisar eimi ok aldrnari,” Loki hummed, “leikr hár hiti við himin sjalfan.”

“That’s ancient Norse, isn’t it?”

No, that wasn’t a star. That over there, leering over Loki like an ugly moon, was the glint of a yellowing gem encrusted in the forehead of a metal man. Sure, he was using some copycat magic to put himself under the guise of a weedy blond man, but Loki could sense the Mind Gem even if it was buried in a deep pile of shit.

Loki glared up at Vision, who was standing over him curiously as if Loki were a wheezing roadkill on the side of the street. Mild concern, major disgust. It was dark, and there were little lights at the dock, but Loki had no doubt that that was on Vision’s mind.

“What are you doing here?” Loki said.

Vision crouched next to Loki, mistaking Loki’s question for an invitation.

“I fancied a walk,” said Vision. “It’s a clear night, and I don’t need a great amount of sleep.”

Loki wrinkled his nose. It was only his luck that he would run into two of the Avengers on the one day that he had no obligation to see any of them.

“Lovely stars,” said Vision. Loki did not take the bait. “I’m rather surprised how many stars you can see here. Oh—” He pointed to the sky, towards the north, to a line of three perfectly aligned stars framed at the corners. “There’s Orion.”

Loki couldn’t help it; he instinctively turned his head to see. True to Vision’s word, he could see the familiar constellation, much fainter on this side of the universe.

“Orion’s belt,” he said.

See, he remembered.

“Although that is Greek mythology,” said Vision. “Are there Viking constellations for these stars?”

“Yes,” Loki said, looking away.

“Could you tell me them?” said Vision.

“No,” said Loki.

Vision opened his mouth, and then closed it. Loki could feel the burn of the stars’ gaze. It was heavy, like a yoke.

“You didn’t even need to ask who I was,” said Vision.

“It’s obvious what you are,” said Loki. “You have the same eyes. Even when you aren’t magenta.”

“That’s fair,” said Vision. “You must have photographic memory.”

“I have the common ability of recognition,” said Loki.

He pushed himself back up into a sitting position. If Vision was offended, he let the lapping water fill the silence instead. Loki did not know which he preferred; for Vision to snap back or for Vision to remain as silent and contained as ever. For some reason, he would rather have the former, perhaps because he was used to it from Thor, perhaps because the latter made him uncomfortable and ashamed, because someone had better self-control than he did.

“Völuspá?” said Vision.

Loki gaped at him.

“Sorry?” Loki said.

“That’s what you were singing, wasn’t it?” said Vision. “From the Poetic Edda.”

In any other situation, Loki might even be impressed. But because this was Vision, he immediately clenched his teeth in suspicion instead.

“How would you have known that?” Loki said.

Vision pursed his lips and looked down at the rippling shine of the inky water.

“Since I used to be JARVIS—er, Tony’s AI,” said Vision, “I still retain much of JARVIS’ knowledge. I could recognize the ancient Norse. An exact quotation of it made it easy to search my knowledge base.”

Loki frowned. Vision regarded Loki with appraise.

“How do you know ancient Norse?” said Vision.

“I’m a historian, remember?” Loki said.

“That’s true,” Vision said.

He said it lightly, and without a hint of mollification. Loki kept his gaze pointedly away from Vision. They were two otherworldly beings under the guise of beanpole blondes sitting on a deck, and Loki had this nagging feeling that he was not the only one to know it.

“Can I help you?” Loki said. “Or are you just going to talk all night?”

“Wanda is quite fond of you,” Vision said.

Vision waited for him to respond, but Loki kept his mouth clamped shut. He was not about to play any cards until Vision would show his true colors first.

“She seems to trust you a lot,” Vision said.

“Oh,” Loki said. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Vision frowned. He didn’t explicitly protest.

“Perhaps she will find that she prefers someone with an actual beating heart and blood,” said Loki.

“That isn’t what I wanted to ask you about,” Vision said.

Loki couldn’t help but smile. He could already feel Vision tensing up beside him, as if the metal man had muscles to contract in the first place. Maybe somewhere deep inside him, a cruel creature missed riling up a fool. Especially since Thor was now out of the question.

“Then what do you want?” said Loki. “I don’t really care to hold a conversation right now.”

“Wanda knows how to take care of herself and who to trust,” said Vision. “And I know that if you wanted to hurt her, you’d be the one suffering.”

Loki snorted instinctively at the claim. Not that he doubted it, however.

“But seeing that you are someone who understands ancient Norse _and_ happens to be helping Wanda with her magic,” said Vision, “I’d rather that the rest of us would have some reason not to suspect you, Loki.”

Loki’s breath froze in his throat. Vision had a disgustingly gentle voice, and it almost made Loki believe that he wasn’t in danger, save for the numbing between his ears when he realized how much of a fool he was.

“What sort of claim is that?” Loki said, desperately clutching at straws he knew had long withered from his hand.

“Wanda had told me that you were helping her with her magic,” said Vision.

“Damn girl,” Loki said. He should have known that her soppy affections for Vision would only lead to his inconvenience.

At this, Vision visibly bristled.

“She only said it to defend you,” said Vision. “To praise you, even.”

“And I only say it to defend myself,” Loki said, although he did not need Vision to scold him because even he felt a jolt of regret after cursing her. “So what now? Are you here to finish me off?”

“No,” said Vision. “I’m here to tell you to tell the truth to the others.”

Loki barked with laughter.

“Oh, so you would rather have the others do the work instead of yourself,” said Loki.

“I would rather that your tendency to keep enormous secrets will not lead you to use Tyrfing in one way or another,” said Vision.

“How touching,” Loki said. “I don’t suppose that you would assume that I have no desire to hurt any of your Avengers, would you?”

“Erik used Tyrfing to kill himself,” Vision said in a low voice. “I am concerned about our team as a whole, and you happen to be a part of it.”

There we go, Jane had said. Teamwork.

Loki pretended that it did not affect him as much as it did.

“Don’t you think the team, me included, would be far better off without knowing who I was?” said Loki. “Or are you one of those fools who think honesty is always the best policy just to make their consciences feel better, like that Mr. Stark of yours?”

“The more we work with Tyrfing, the worse we are all about to become,” said Vision. “The truth will come out sooner or later—and the only way that any of the Avengers will be able to trust you is if they heard it from you. If they found out by anyone else or by themselves—”

“You kept your composure quite well,” Loki said.

“—they would have no reason to trust you,” Vision said firmly. “I don’t have much emotional baggage towards you compared to the others.”

“Unsurprising,” said Loki. “Machines don’t have minds or emotions in the first place.”

A beat.

“I’m on _your_ team,” Vision said, sounding stung.

So what, Loki wanted to snarl. He wanted to look Vision straight in the Mind Gem and spit those words, but that would require looking at Vision, and he hadn’t quite made it there yet.

So he said nothing instead, and let Vision make do with only the creaking of the tide against the dock, and the soft caws of the raven perched on a post. Maybe Vision was so convinced that Loki posed a danger to the Avengers, but Loki found it preposterous that he was the only one who seemed remotely perturbed that the Mind Gem was walking around with its own voice and body. And instead of everyone regarding it with the terror and dedication that Loki had set out with, they took him in as a friend.

“I won’t lie to my friends about your identity,” Vision said. “So if you do not tell them, I will. And it would be worse for you if I do.”

“You’re going to have to do a better job of threatening me if you want me to care,” said Loki.

“Do you _want_ them to kill you?” said Vision.

Loki laughed shortly.

“I do now, if you’re talking to me,” he said.

Vision suddenly gathered himself onto his feet.

“You shouldn’t work with Tyrfing anymore,” he said.

“Excuse me?” said Loki. “Who are you to order me around?”

“If you are so flippant about your life, then you have no reason to be near Tyrfing,” said Vision. “Not when it’s already so dangerous.”

“You can’t be serious,” said Loki. “Just because I want to express how much I can’t stand your presence doesn’t mean I’m going to leap onto Tyrfing.”

“A small seed can grow into a sequoia tree if tended to,” said Vision. “If you have even a little, little seed of something self-destructive in you, the more you casually joke about it or allow it to stay or flippantly use it as some form of self-expression, the more you’re watering it and tending to it to grow enormous. Until it becomes too difficult to cut down. You’re joking about it now, just to insult me? Tyrfing will find even the thinnest thread of truth in that and it will twist that around your neck.”

“You don’t have to be so _anxious_ , Mind Gem,” Loki said through gritted teeth. “I’ve come too far and ruined too much to not see the Soul Gem’s destruction through.”

Vision swallowed hard.

“My name is Vision,” he said. “And I’m _not_ the Mind Gem.”

“Are you not?” Loki said. He climbed onto his feet as well to stare Vision straight in the eyes. “Seems like I know more about what you are than you do, Mind Gem. You’re nothing but destruction. You were the sorry result of some pathetic, wretched creature from the beginning of time who found no better use for its life than to kill itself and split itself into six. You’re the result of an unwanted creature’s absolute misery. You’re broken and you have no power other than to ruin the lives of anyone that you’re used against. You’re not even _whole_.”

He moved closer to Vision, and to his grim satisfaction, Vision quickly stepped back. Suddenly, he could not tell if he was Loki or Baldur at this moment, even if Vision knew his identity. He never felt this much catharsis and honesty before as Loki, only as his story-truth counterpart.

Then, when Vision crossed paths with the moonlight, Loki realized with a belated jolt that Vision was shaking. Loki did not know how he expected to feel; somehow he wasn’t entirely surprised, as if he had not truly believed that Vision was nothing but wires and hardware this whole time despite all that he said.

Could the Mind Gem cry, Loki wondered.

The moment he asked himself this, an avalanche of regret overwhelmed him, and whatever sense of release and relief he had from those words that he uttered no longer felt worth it.

Vision stumbled back, not looking Loki in the eyes. In jerked motions, he turned away, his shoulders hunched as he walked off of the dock. Loki’s chest became constricted and it struck him like a low blow that whether or not Vision was as much of the Mind Gem as Loki said, as destructive and powerful and cursed as these Gems were, Loki had made an _Infinity Gem_ cry.

“Vision,” said Loki.

Vision did not stop. He had already made it off the dock, darting through the streets, and Loki realized with yet another sharp blow that Wanda was probably going to hear about this.

“Dammit,” Loki said under his breath.

He gripped his hands into fists until they shook. The worst part was that he was surprised by himself. Even he had not known entirely to what levels he could sink.

* * *

Loki did not sleep that night, nor did he even bother returning to his room. Guilt was not unfamiliar to Loki, but it kept him an insomniac nonetheless. He replayed his ugly words over and over again in his head as he sat at bus stop benches, shivering and cursing himself for shivering as if he was too wicked to be pitiable. His words had been poisonous, cruel, and barbed, and even Thor in his old immaturity and Odin in all his coldness had never thrown such hateful words at him (Loki had used the same vein of words himself, to himself, but that was different).

And yet he could not move himself to trust Vision, to see Vision as anything more than that tantalizing scepter that both tempted him and destroyed him. Loki did not understand how Vision worked and he had no intention to. Infinity Gems were meant to be destroyed, and no exception. If they ever figured a way to deal with Tyrfing, it would be inevitable that Vision would be next. It was only a pity that Wanda was so fond of him.

But did it excuse anything that Loki had said to Vision, however temporary Vision may be?

His head pounded all night, until his palms sweated and his stomach tightened into an undoable knot. He did not know what he dreaded, since the worst had been said. But when the sun would rise again—and unfortunately, it would rise fairly quickly—Loki was going to have to see Vision again, whom he hurt, and Wanda again, whom he betrayed, and the Avengers again, whom he now had to acknowledge would most certainly find the truth sooner or later considering the success rate that he was achieving. He thought that by now he would be better at facing the people that he failed with dignity and rationality, but he couldn’t be.

Perhaps he had failed Thor too. He had found the Soul Gem, but had done nothing to destroy it. He was only prolonging its violent spree, and hurting his friends in the process. Perhaps there was nothing good he could do anymore, if he had ever done any good in the first place.

Which meant he also failed Jane.

As the sun rose too early, and it came closer to the time that Sam had declared would be when they would reconvene in their rendezvous point, Loki knew he had to make a choice, however much he had up until this point avoided it. He could not pretend that nothing had changed within himself or between any of them the next time he would see them.

Tell the truth, a voice in his head urged.

Loki immediately silenced the voice, out of panic more than anything else.

Tell the truth, it said again.

I can’t, thought Loki. I can’t. I can’t. It’ll ruin everything. I can’t.

What are you afraid it will ruin, said his head. Tell the truth.

His stomach soured, and he felt painfully sick.

_Tell the truth._

No, Loki thought. No, it never works. It never helps. Look what happened to Thor. Look what it did to Thor.

_Tell the truth._

Please, don’t make me do this. This is a mistake. Is that you, Norns? Tell me this is just my wild, panicked, irrational head speaking to myself. Don’t make me—

_What are you afraid of?_

It will ruin everything. Just look at Thor. It will ruin everything.

_What has Thor got to do with anything?_

Loki did not know the answer. He only felt it deeply in his chest, like a knife embedded in his ribs. And as his heart raced, it only pressed this invisible blade deeper and deeper into him.

They deserve the truth, said his head (or was it his heart?). They’ll be safer with the truth. And Tyrfing can lose a foothold in you. The truth can set you—

Free? thought Loki. When has the truth ever set me free? How did the truth about my Frost Giant heritage help me? My birthright of death? The truth about Jane? How did it ever—?

Are you any freer now? said the voice. Tell me, Loki—do you think you are free now?

Loki swallowed hard. He raised his head, towards the storm clouds that the now risen sun put on the spotlight.

What will you lose, said the voice.

And before Loki stopped himself, he thought, _my friends_.

He never realized that he would consider them this. It left his heart aching when he realized it so late in the game.

But if you leave a foothold for Tyrfing, said his heart, wouldn’t you lose everyone anyway?

Loki closed his eyes. Finally, he stood up from the metal bench. The rain was beginning to fall, pinging against the sparse overhang at the bus stop. His stomach hurt badly, and he knew that he couldn’t trick himself into thinking that it would unravel once he told the truth.

And yet, he walked towards the rendezvous point in the abandoned strips of Oslo while the rain poured and the thunder groaned above his head, resolved to lose everything if only it meant that no one else would have to.  

He was the last one to make it to the point. He had bleakly hoped that he would be the first, to give himself time to think. He had wrestled between the option of telling the truth, to the option of simply leaving and returning to Asgard and starting fresh elsewhere, to ignoring both his conscience and intuition. Instead, the Avengers were huddled together, next to one of Tony’s parked cars where Tyrfing was stowed in the back.

“There you are,” said Tony. He held out an umbrella for Loki. Loki hesitated to take it. “Are we all ready, then?”

“Where are we going?” said Loki.

“A little island between here and the Faroe Islands,” said Tony. “I’ve got a jet prepared for us. The smaller the population, the better. To minimize the damage.”

Loki swallowed hard. He looked to Vision, who was not looking at him, and Wanda, who looked at him too trustingly and expectantly, and it became too clear that Vision had kept everything about last night from her. He wished that he did not feel grateful for it.

“Before we go,” Loki said. His voice began to shake. “I wanted to tell you all something.”

“What is it?” said Natasha.

Loki couldn’t breathe. He looked to her, and remembered how long it took for her to trust him, and how rare it was for him to have such a thing.

“It’s—” he said. 

“Oi!” Tony waved his hand vigorously at a raven perched on top of his car. “Shoo! You’ve got some nerve.”

The raven cawed, and only hopped further from Tony’s reach rather than flying off.

“Oh, leave it, Stark,” said Sam. “It’s probably raining too hard for it to fly anywhere.”

“This bird has been hanging out here this whole time,” said Tony.

“Why?” said Loki. “Birds know to take shelter before a storm.”

Before the words even left his mouth, he felt the blood drain from his face, and suddenly he realized that he recognized this raven. It was not the first time he had seen it here in Oslo. 

“Oh,” Loki said breathlessly. “Hell.”

“What is it?” said Steve. “What were you going to tell us, Baldur?”

There was no time for that, and even if there was, Loki would not know what he would have said. A flash of light struck beside them, within Loki’s peripheral, but it was not a bolt of lightning. It was the Bifrost.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies everyone....life has been pretty wild.   
> A deep thank you again to all those who are so patient with me. And also a special and heartfelt thank you to all my readers who have returned from my older fics--I recognize you and your usernames, even from years ago, and it means a lot to me to see you again <3\. 
> 
> I apologize if my writing quality in this chapter is below par. I just wanted to get a chapter out for you guys so that you wouldn't be waiting too long, and originally this chapter meant to be a lot longer but I split it in two instead. I hope you guys stick around still :).

Even when she was a hundred lightyears away from home, Jane Foster had a penchant for staring up into the sky and counting the stars. It didn’t matter if she was covered in soot and sweat, if her clothes were torn up and reeking, if the three of them shook with hunger and fatigue while clinging to the shards of a shattered Infinity Stone as well as the last residue of their life. She would look up to the nighttime sky and breathe a sigh of wonder.

That night, there was little energy left even to breathe. They had been chasing shooting stars since they started, and sank their fingers into the white-hot heart of them. They would encourage each other right before cursing each other, because even if they stole the Reality Stone back from the Collector, it didn’t mean that any burst of lightning from Thor’s power could put a dent in it. And they would curse each other right before respecting each other, because Thor still would cook dinner for everyone over a spit and Jane would still theorize how to dampen the Reality Stone’s power to keep it from attracting unwanted attention, and Loki would still perfect the runes and equipment to follow Jane’s suggestions to make it work.

There we go, Jane would then say with a deep sigh of exhaustion and grim satisfaction, when the stone was subdued. Teamwork.

Loki suppressed a snort, but she did not necessarily notice.

Tonight, Thor was dead asleep. Thor woke up every day aching, and went to bed hissing in pain. They were curled up in the outskirts of a wizened realm, where the ground was dry and hard and the air was bitter, but at least there was air for Jane to breathe. Loki silently assumed that he would be left to keep watch, so he pressed close to a paltry fire, practicing his spells and crossing off each star and planet in his mental list of where to check next for another Stone, and another, and another.

When Jane sat down next to him, he did not look up. She sighed, her breath a little strained from the chill, and she crept close to the flames without letting them burn her.

“Can’t sleep,” she said.

He did not respond. He was too busy forming shapes with his seidr, stretching it like one would test a new bow. Green light weaved from his fingers as he pulled it back and forth, relishing the pull and resistance like he was forming magnets from his fingertips. He would then prod the Reality Gem that they had contained, with the runes edged around its container to counterbalance its powers. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that Jane’s theories had been correct.

“Clear night,” she offered again.

Loki audibly yawned. Jane gave an exasperated sigh.

“Did anyone ever tell you how petty you were?” she said.

Now this caught Loki’s attention.

“That’s bold,” he said.

“Tell me that I’m wrong,” said Jane. “What have I ever done to you that made you so cranky?”

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“You did slap me,” Loki said.

“Okay, you deserved that,” Jane said. “You tried to take over my planet.”

“Oh, I never realized that you took that personally.”

Jane glared at Loki. For some reason, the look on her face made Loki laugh.

“Look who’s petty now,” he said.

“That right there? That was the _epitome_ of petty.”

“Dare you say, e-petty-me?”

Jane gawked at Loki as if she was only just now noticing him on this sorry excuse of a planet. She instinctively snorted.

“Is this supposed to be you in a good mood?” she said.

“We’ve got the Reality Gem under lock and key,” said Loki. “It’s not nothing.”

“Yeah,” said Jane. “Thank God that your seidr handled it.”

They kept their voices low, riding along the crackling of the flame while Thor slept. Every now and then, the both of them would steal glances at Thor, even though he was going nowhere, and neither of them could protect him quite as well as he could protect them.

“Well,” said Loki. “I suppose you had come up with the idea.”

The corner of Jane’s lips twitched upward.

“I’ll take that,” she said.

She reached out to take the Reality Gem in its secure case. She ran her fingers over the runes, humming alongside the thrum of Loki’s seidr that powered it. It was not enough to destroy the gem, which was the intent, but it was at least enough to assure them that the Reality Gem would not try to replicate its stint as the Aether anytime soon.

“Does that mean you don’t regret me coming along?” she said.

“You’re testing the waters now,” said Loki.

“It was worth a shot,” Jane said.

She set the Gem down and lay on her back. Loki continued to exercise his seidr, expecting Jane to drift to sleep on her own, until Jane suddenly raised a hand to the sky.

“That’s not Orion, is it?” she said.

Loki raised his eyebrows.

“Who?” he said.

“You know,” said Jane. “The constellation. Oh, you probably have different stars in Asgard. Maybe you don’t even have constellations. Considering you _were_ the mythology, what sort of constellations would you have? Star formations about Hans, the accountant?”

She chuckled at her own joke, and immediately quieted when Loki stared blankly at her. She pointed a finger over her head.

“See those three stars that almost look like they’re in a straight line?” she said. “That’s Orion’s belt.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Loki. “That’s Frigga’s distaff.”

“Her what?”

“Her spinning rod,” said Loki. He gathered his seidr to dissipate it neatly. “The tool of her prophetic tapestry, memorialized in the stars.”

“Not her…actual distaff, is it?” said Jane.

“If I said yes, would it be any less believable than anything else you’ve heard?” said Loki.

Jane did not need to answer. She let her hand fall back to her side, watching the stars shimmer from this distance.

“It’s always the first constellation I can find wherever I am,” she said. “Like it is always there, wherever I am.”

Loki looked up to the line of stars. He thought of Frigga’s face, and what she would have thought of them traversing the galaxies like this.

“It is,” he agreed.

“What other constellations are there?” said Jane. When Loki frowned, she sighed. “Come on, we’re both awake and we’ve been on this crazy mission for what, several months now?”

“Time works differently in these parts,” said Loki.

“Trust me, it feels like years to me too,” Jane said slyly.

 Loki rolled his eyes. Still, he conceded.

“There’s Odin’s Wagon,” said Loki. “Which he used to ride to war.”

Jane raised her eyebrows.

“A wagon?” she said. “Do you mean a chariot?”

“The official name is a wagon,” Loki said.

“All right, if you say so,” Jane said.

Loki scowled. He took his finger and traced the shape of the stars on the dust.

“See?” he said. “Chariot.”

“No it’s not,” said Jane. “That’s the Big Dipper.”

“The what?”

“Ursa Major.”

“Are you using the Greeks as your foundation of knowledge? Elementary.”

“Is there any reason why your dad’s ride is in the sky?”

“No less reason than a bear.”

Jane smiled wryly. It was familiar. Like being able to sit down after a grueling day. Loki did not like to think about how much he had become used to it, after traveling with her for so long.

“All right,” she said. “What else? Any that comes with stories?”

“Thor hasn’t told you any?” said Loki.

“I’m just now thinking about asking. He’s sleeping.”

Loki tutted, before he pointed up towards Frigga’s distaff—or Orion—again.

“See the star right there, adjacent to the three?” said Loki. “That’s Aurvandil’s Toe.”

“A toe?”

“Thor had broken off his toe and cast it into the sky. And then it became a star.”

“Who is Aurvandil?” said Jane.

“A warrior from Asgard,” said Loki. “And Thor’s sparring partner. They would go on expeditions together, occasionally.”

“Yes, and when he did, he was a much quieter camper than you lot,” Thor’s voice came muffled from beneath his arm.

Jane jumped and turned sharply towards Thor, who sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “So—why did you break off his toe?”

“They were at one point stuck in Jotunheim,” Loki said, “and Aurvandil was near death from the cold. Thor carried Aurvandil back to safety, but Aurvandil had a frostbitten toe, so Thor snapped off the toe and then threw it into the sky to commemorate him.”

When Loki finished, Jane burst out laughing. But Loki kept his face impossibly straight, and to his credit so did Thor, and Jane did not noticed until her laughter faltered with comedic timing.

“Wait,” she said. “You’re not serious, are you?”

She looked from Loki to Thor, conveniently missing the split second when the two brothers exchanged knowing glances.

“The _hell_?” she said.

“How is that strange to you?” said Thor.

“Toes aren’t _stars_ ,” said Jane. “And also even if someone had a frostbitten toe so that you needed to break it off—why would you _throw_ it?”

“What was he going to do if he kept it around?” Loki said.

“Why would you throw it into the sky?” said Jane. “You’re serious about this?”

“Jane, of all the things that you know about me,” said Thor, although his eyes were bright with mirth, “how come _this_ is the most unbelievable?”

“I don’t know!” said Jane. “Because it makes no logical sense!”

“That’s Thor for you,” Loki said.

Thor promptly kicked him.

“It was to honor him, Jane,” said Thor. “So that Aurvandil would be commemorated forever. He had a trying life, you know.”

“I think he would have preferred it if you used your healing stones to keep his toe back on,” Jane said.

“Oh,” Thor said, widening his eyes in theatrical epiphany. “Oh, that’s a good point.”

“ _Thor!_ ”

Thor broke into a grin and cackled, clutching his middle. Jane’s face went from horror to indignation as she punched Thor and Loki on the shoulder.

“You terrible boys,” she said, although she laughed as well. It was strange to think that only an hour ago they were running for their lives, and now they had enough breath to laugh. “How can I ever trust you? Forget the stars.”

“To be fair to us,” said Thor, “I do have a sparring partner who lost his toe in Jotunheim.”

“But it’s not a _star_ right now, is it?”

“No, but that’s what the mortals say on Earth. Or they did, back when they would tell our stories and muddle a few details.”

“Well, if that star is a toe,” said Jane, “then which star is someone’s pinky finger?”

“You joke, but Aurvandil isn’t the only one whose body parts are in the sky,” said Loki. “There might be someone’s arse or two.”

“Shut up,” said Jane.

“There’s Thzaji’s eyes,” said Thor. He traced the pattern of the stars on the dust as well. “Of Jotunheim.”

“Hardly an important story,” said Loki.

“That’s Gemini!” said Jane. “What was Thzaji’s story?”

“You really want to know more stories even after all that?” said Loki.

“Thzaji was a jotun,” said Thor. “And he was rescuing Idunn, an Asgardian, from a terrible fate but was killed in the process. His beloved daughter Skadi was mad with grief, because it was an Asgardian expedition and for an Asgardian woman that her father had died, and of course, at the time Jotunheim and Asgard were—well—”

“Competing who could kill each other faster, basically,” Loki said.

“But Thzaji still helped to rescue and Asgardian?” said Jane.

“It was his fault that Idunn was in danger in the first place,” Loki said.

“Those are only rumors,” Thor said. “And highly unfair.”

“What happened to Skadi, then?” said Jane.

“She demanded that the Allfather give her justice,” said Thor. “And among those things, her father’s eyes were cast into the sky to watch over her. And thus they are stars.”

“What else?” said Jane.

“Treasures. Weapons and shields to defend herself and her people.”

“Was this before your time?”

“More or less. We were born, but we were still children.”

“That’s so fascinating,” said Jane. “But wait, are they _really_ his eyes? Or is it just fanciful symbolism?”

“Well, it matters little,” said Loki. “Even if they really were his eyes, he couldn’t actually see with them. He’s dead.”

“I think Father kept his word on that,” said Thor.

“He kept his word for things that were very little. They’re nothing on Heimdall, anyway.”

Jane stretches herself over the cold rock, cradling her head in her arms.

“Heimdall can see us still?” she said.

“Heimdall can see us anywhere,” said Thor. “He’s looking out for us.”

“How far are we from Asgard?” said Jane.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Loki.

“I know,” said Jane. “But I still want to ask.”

Thor hummed.

“A good several lightyears,” said Thor. “We’re outside of the Nine Realms.”

“Wow,” Jane whispered. She took in a deep breath, where the air was stale and frigid, and the lonely planet’s atmosphere was at best tepid. “I never thought I could see the stars like this.”

“This is actually an uglier side of the universe,” said Loki.

“I don’t care,” said Jane. “I can’t believe I lived to see this day.”

Her hair was matted with grime and she reeked of smoke and endless days. The starlight still made her glimmer.

* * *

 

Thor had cut his hair.

He also had lost some weight and gained some scars, but it was his hair that Loki noticed first. Unsurprising, since the only time Thor may have had short hair was when he had freshly come out of the womb, which Loki was never present for. It made Loki look at Thor with a drastically new lens, to readjust his familiarity with Thor’s eyes and nose and chin. He would have to see if Thor was as much of a stranger to Loki as he looked now.

Judging by the stunned silence of the Avengers, though, Loki was not the only one. When the glimmer of the Bifrost faded, it was almost uncomfortable how still everyone stood, staring at each other and waiting for the other to make a move, Thor on one side and the Avengers and Loki on the other. Waiting for the other to make the first move.

Thor raised a hand.

“Hello,” he said.

An anticlimactic greeting should not rip the lungs out of Loki’s chest, and yet here he was. He could not bring himself to look Thor in the eyes, and he could not move away either, as if his joints had turned to bone and he couldn’t even bend a limb.

“Long time no see,” Sam said.

Sam was the first to bridge the distance by reaching his hand out to shake Thor’s. Thor nodded in acknowledgement.

“Are you well?” said Thor.

“Where the hell have you been?” said Tony.

Loki felt an unexpected spike of temper towards Tony. Thor looked up, his face unreadable.

“Stark,” Thor said in greeting.

“It’s been nearly two years since you last showed up,” said Tony. “Hell, since we last heard from you. And now you suddenly show up after _your_ _people’s_ magical shit is killing everyone?”

“Would you rather I leave?” Thor said. “And the Infinity Gems are not of my people.”

“It’s on your Viking sword,” said Tony. “Tyrfing.”

“Tyrfing was made by the dwarves and forged in Muspelheim,” said Thor. “If we’re going to get technical. The universe isn’t divided between humans and anything else that has two eyes and a nose. Happy to see you too, Stark.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Steve said. Tony’s lips drew into a thin line. “We’re glad that you’re here, Thor.”

“Captain,” said Thor, taking Steve’s arm. He looked around to the others; Loki clenched his jaw. “I’m sorry for my delay.”

“Erik had told us that you were with Jane Foster,” said Natasha. “Looking for the other Infinity Gems.”

Loki held his breath for Thor’s reaction. His stomach had already turned, and if he were not alone, it would have been enough to make him scream. But Thor did not crack, or shatter, or stand utterly still Loki had dreaded. Instead, he bowed his head and took in a deep breath.

“We’ve lost Jane,” said Thor. “And now I hear that we’ve lost Erik as well.”

The response knocked the next words out of everyone’s mouths. Loki most of all. For a moment Loki wildly assumed that this must have been an imposter, because his Thor would lie and lie and lie if that was what it took to pretend that the sun was still shining.

“I’m so sorry, Thor,” Steve said. “We had no idea.”

Thor shook his head.

“It should not have kept me from my duties,” he said. “I should have come here the minute it became clear that the Soul Gem was on Earth. Where is Tyrfing?”

“It’s in the car,” said Natasha. “In the trunk, in case—”

“Let me see it,” said Thor.

“No,” Loki said immediately. “It’s too dangerous.”

Thor turned to face Loki, and it was the first time that he laid eyes on Loki this whole time. Loki held his breath. He had entered this morning expecting to come clean, to reveal hid identity quietly and let the Avengers decide whether or not they wanted to deal with him. As much as he hated to acknowledge it, Vision was right—if Thor would recognize Loki in this moment and exclaim it, Loki would be chased off of this planet without a second of consideration.

“Who’s this little man?” said Thor.

Loki clenched his jaw.

“This is Baldur,” said Steve. “He’s an archaeologist. He was the one who found Tyrfing first.”

Thor’s gaze was damning, and so was Vision’s. Loki dared himself to return Thor’s gaze, desperately hoping that he was as thick as Loki had always convinced himself he was and never truly believed.

“A pleasure,” Thor said quietly.

Loki’s heart sank. Thor then made his way towards the car in which Tyrfing was kept, without another glance at his disguised brother.

“Let me see it,” said Thor.

“It’s not in a good shape, Thor,” said Sam. “It’s still unsheathed, and we’re out in the open, we’re not that far from the city--”

“It isn’t any better to put it in the same vehicle that all of you were going to sit in for however many hours,” said Thor. “It’s only a look.”

Sam pursed his lips, but then nodded to Tony. Tony shrugged and unlocked the car for Thor. Thor reached inside and took out the sword. The blade was still dark and unclean--Tony audibly gulped at the sight of it.

Thor held the blade with both hands, turning the blade over in his palm so that the dark green gem faced him. Loki held his breath, his fists shaking as he waited for a pair of ghostly white hands to reach for his brother. He did not know what he would do if that would actually happen, with his bartered seidr and with Thor’s life on the line either way.

“We were going to take it to the islands,” said Sam. “So that it’s farther away from the city.”

“What for?” said Thor.

“Well--I mean,” Sam said, caught off guard, “because we don’t want the sword attacking more people. If we leave it in the middle of the city, more people are at risk of getting attacked by it.”

Thor held the sword by the hilt. Tony instinctively raised his hand--an Iron Man glove was programmed on his wristwatch, and he was fully prepared to blast Thor off of his feet in less than five seconds. Thor did not pay attention; he held the blade steadily, lifting it up so that it caught reflections of the bleak sky.

“Look at this blade,” said Thor. “It’s a wide blade. Sharp on the edges. But the point is nothing to write home about.” He adjusted his grip on the hilt. “And it’s a heavy sword. Even I would prefer using it with both hands rather than one. It would be cumbersome in battle.”

“What’s your point?” said Tony.

“This sword wasn’t designed to kill in droves,” said Thor. “You wouldn’t use it aimlessly unless you had no other choice. This is an executioner’s sword. If you were going to use it, it’d be for justice. Or vengeance. You wouldn’t just kill anyone with it.”

“We don’t have to worry about killing the city,” Loki said suddenly, his breath like a foreign weight in his chest. “Just each other.”

“Damn it all to hell,” said Tony.

There was something that was easier to stomach about becoming a berserker and killing millions than becoming terrible and killing the few around him. In the silent circle, everyone knew what the other was thinking as their gazes darted from one another. Who would be driven mad to kill them, and who would they be pushed to kill?

“Let’s go inside, somewhere,” said Sam. “Get out of this rain.”

“Oh,” said Thor. “Sorry.”

The rain lessened to a miserable drizzle. Sam shook his head.

“It’d be easier to talk about all of this where we aren’t in the open and standing around in the cold,” said Sam. “Everything’s already too hard as it is. It’s too hard.”

He paused out of instinct, for someone to contradict. No one did, so they shook the rain from their umbrellas and retreated. Where they ended up was a lodge in the park that stood nearby, an empty and quaint building that was meant for reserved parties or events. Inside, it smelled of a poorly cleaned AC unit and fresh linoleum, and their shoes squeaked on the tiles until they met the poorly varnished wood.

Thor held the blade evenly with both hands. He leaned close towards the dark green gem, and Loki suddenly was seized with the fear that he was going to watch his brother cut himself open, just as Erik had done. The fear immediately numbed him, and then sent his stomach roaring like a great hurricane until he was about to spill sour bile.

“It’s clouded,” said Thor. “The gem. But not with dirt. Like clouds in the sky.”

He moved slowly, as if he had weights tied to his wrists and elbows. It was uncomfortable to watch.

“We think that those are souls trapped in the Gem,” said Natasha. “If you watch—Tony took a video on his phone, but when we tried to remove the Gem on our own, these _hands_ just suddenly come out of the stone and try to take a hold of us.”

“When you tried to remove it?” said Thor.

“So that we could destroy the Gem,” said Natasha.

Thor pursed his lips. He propped the sword on the mantelpiece, over the dusty fireplace in the lodge.

“Erik killed himself with this sword,” said Thor.

“I—yes,” said Natasha.

“Did the Gem take Erik’s soul, then?” said Thor.

Natasha’s jaw stiffened.

Thor ran a finger over the gem; his eyes were sharp with concentration that could almost cut the gem out on its own.

“Then Erik’s soul is in the gem,” said Thor.

“What does that mean?” said Tony. “That he’s still alive?”

“No,” said Thor. He pulled away from the sword. “He is dead. His body is dead. But his soul is supposed to move on. Instead, the Gem holds it here.”

“Like a hell,” Steve said.

“Worse than Hel,” said Thor. “Now, Erik’s soul is a slave to the Gem. It’s a part of the Gem. We cannot destroy it.”

“ _What_?”

Loki would have scorned the idiot who couldn’t contain their own outburst until he realized that it was himself. He had always claimed that Thor was an idiot--even when Loki did not believe it--but this suggestion was enough to offend Loki. Everything that Loki had sweated over on Earth and everything that Thor had lost and everything that Jane had meant was for the sake of destroying this Soul Gem. They had gone too far for it to be for nothing.

Everyone but Thor looked instinctively to Loki at his outcry. Thor only looked to the floor, and his gaze dragged Loki’s heart down with it.

“How do you mean?” Loki said. “There isn’t any other choice. This Gem _needs_ to be destroyed.”

“If the Gem is destroyed,” said Thor, “then I will destroy Erik’s soul, and everyone else’s who have been trapped inside.”

“Wouldn’t their souls just be free?” said Sam. “Without the Gem to lock them in, they wouldn’t be trapped in anything.”

“Their souls have become a part of the mechanism,” said Thor. “They are the Gem’s function. You destroy the Gem, you destroy their souls.”

“Then that can’t be helped,” Loki said.

Thor suddenly turned towards Loki, and Loki sucked in a sharp breath. But Thor stopped short of meeting Loki’s eye, as if his neck couldn’t turn further than halfway, and Loki did not know what made his stomach harden more.

“Do you know what it’s like for your soul to die?” said Thor.

Loki almost said yes, even though he knew that everything he could compare to it was only a metaphor. But his gut bristled, because Thor should not know what it meant for the soul to die either, no matter how much his heart broke.

“I can’t imagine it being any better than going to Hel,” said Loki. “If that’s where some of these souls are heading, then I’d think we were doing them a favor.”

“Baldur,” Steve said, his voice strained with horror.

Thor’s jaw stiffened.

“That’s not for us to be the judge of,” said Thor. “And my friend’s soul is in there, regardless. Erik’s soul is in there.”

“Then what do you want to do?” said Natasha. “If we can’t destroy it in a way that would keep it from hurting other people, how do we free them? I don’t assume that breaking it open would work, so what other method is there?”

“It’s a work of magic,” said Thor. “And other powers. These Infinity Gems can be harnessed or manipulated. That’s what the Infinity Gauntlet is able to do. That’s what Ja—”

He stopped himself short, and Loki felt a violent twist in his stomach before he could even conclude what he thought Thor would say. Thor blinked slowly, and then took in a deep breath.

“That’s what Jane and Loki were able to do,” Thor said. “When we had found the other Gems. Theorize and design magic mechanisms to disable them, and then eventually break them down.”

“ _Loki_ helped you?” said Tony. “The same Loki that killed for the sake of those Gems?”

“How did they do it?” said Wanda. “We—I have magic, maybe I can help build something.”

“It was Jane who figured out the theory behind it,” said Thor.

“We can recreate it,” said Sam. “Just tell us what to do, and we’ll help.”

Thor laughed mirthlessly, desperately.

“It is different for each stone,” said Thor. “Time is different from space, is different from soul. Jane was able to understand it well. She was so--I wouldn't know how to come up with it.”

“Then what do you want us to do?” said Loki.

Wanda turned sharply to Loki, her little mouth pinched in indignation. Thor, on the other hand, only blinked.

“You?” said Thor. “Nothing. But I can take this sword to Hel.”

“Sorry, where?” said Tony.

Loki resisted bursting out in similar disbelief. Suddenly he felt his skin grow too tight, and he wished he could rip it off and speak freely without repercussions, if that was ever possible.

“To Hel,” said Thor. “Hela would know better than anyone what would become of these souls. On this side of life, she is the closest to death.”

“Is it dangerous?” Wanda said quietly.

Thor smiled indulgently for her.

“You don’t have to worry,” said Thor.

Yes, you do, thought Loki.

“Who is Hela?” said Natasha.

“Norse queen of the dead,” said Sam. When Thor gave Sam an impressed look, Sam shrugged. “I figured I would read up on everything I could when I found out what we were getting ourselves into. And she’s not exactly harmless, either.”

“How is someone alive the queen of the dead?” said Vision.

It was the first time Vision spoke up. The sound of his voice after much of its deliberate absence only reminded Loki in bursts of what exactly conspired between Vision and him just last night, like hunger pangs.

“Those are the Midgardian tales,” said Thor. “Their interpretation of what they could only gather from bits and pieces. She isn’t a queen—although I’m sure she would enjoy that title. She’s more like a guard. Standing by the gates, counting everyone who comes by. Valhalla has the Valkyries. Hel has her.”

“Why not ask a Valkyrie?” said Tony. “Sounds a lot more personable than someone whose name is derived from hell.”

“The Valkyries have disappeared ages ago,” said Thor. “Long before I was born.”

“Thor,” said Vison. “Be honest. Could Hela be dangerous?”

“Anyone could be decently dangerous in the Nine Realms,” said Thor.

“But as the guard of the dead, could she—could she be inclined to take your life?” said Vision.

Thor paused. His lips quirked into a mirthless smile.

“Well,” Thor said. “It’d be safe not to put it past her.”

“Then how do you think Hela will be of any help?” said Loki.

He asked out of instinct, or perhaps vehement hurt. Perhaps he had no right to feel this way—even though that did not stop him from feeling it—but he detested the way Thor flippantly talked of life and death as if it was something that could be easily replaced. Or as if he could care less that the idea of Thor dying in body or mind was enough for Loki to give up his only sense of worth and security in a superstitious gamble to prevent it.

Thor’s eyes met Loki’s—piercing, distant blue.

“Who else could?” Thor said.

Loki suddenly could not breathe. Thor’s gaze passed him easily, as if they had further to journey and Loki was barely a passing landscape. But Loki knew in his core, which twisted around his lungs tightly until he could not draw air, that Thor knew exactly who he was.

“I’ll go with you,” said Vision.

“What?” said Thor.

 _What_?

Vision nodded, his face solemnly unreadable. Loki gaped at him, and part of him harshly wondered if this was some wild attempt of Vision’s to seek revenge on Loki, however much deserved it was. Even though it had nothing to do with him, and rightly so, Loki could not help but blame this sudden jolt of fear on someone else.

“The journey won’t end at Hel, I presume,” said Vision. “And it will need more than just you, I’m sure. You had a team in the beginning. You should continue to have a team now.”

“I don’t need a team,” Thor said suddenly.

Thor was a king who matured by the number of scars he had acquired in the past several years. And yet he still let his heart dangle foolishly from his sleeve—or perhaps he kept his composure neatly, and Loki could only see the flashes of fear and dread and shame dawn on Thor’s face because Loki had known Thor all his life.

“Maybe,” said Vision. “But you can use one. And we are one.”

Tony swallowed hard, but gave a short jerk of a nod behind Vision. On the other side, Steve put a hand on Thor’s shoulder.

“It’s been hard, dealing with this sword as a team,” said Steve. “But I can’t imagine doing it alone.”

“You don’t understand,” Thor said. “I am different from you all. And this sword—it’s like poison. The longer you’re exposed to it—”

“It’ll hurt you more than it’ll hurt me,” said Vision. “It has nothing it can take from me.”

Vision meant it as encouragement. On one side of him, Wanda made a sound of protest, but it crumbled to silence soon after. On the other, Loki’s stomach sank generously.

“It can take away any of you,” said Thor. “That’s the point. You have everything to lose. You have each other.”

“We have you, Thor,” Natasha said sternly. “Are you going to make us lose you?”

“You are the ones that are making me lose _you_ ,” Thor said.

Loki stood silent, hearing not only the rush of blood in his ears but also the desperate cry that rumbled beneath Thor’s stern, seemingly steady voice. He knew that he should join the others’ protests, to shove his support into Thor’s arms without mercy, but he was first paralyzed with shame. Their friends willingly offered everything to Thor, and Thor essentially had to beg Loki for his affections.

“We’re not that delicate,” Natasha said. “We’ve handled a damn invasion of an alien army breaking apart our cities. And Ultron.”

“I’m not calling you delicate,” said Thor. “But you don’t have to be weak to get hurt. I can’t—”

Thor shut his mouth. For a moment, Loki thought he saw tears in Thor’s eyes, but in a flash Thor’s face hardened, and he straightened his shoulders that he had not realized until now were shaking, and he took his broken heart and held it in the furnace to meld until the words he spoke seared and stung.

“You’ve all done more than enough,” said Thor. “But this is no longer your responsibility. It shouldn’t have been anyone else’s.”

“Who says that it is _yours_?” said Loki.

Loki knew that anger did not mend Thor’s wounds. Even if it was built out of love, it was nothing more than a knife cutting away at him. But Loki did not know how else to love, when all he had mastered was using it to shove others away.

“Jane,” Thor said quietly.

He took the sword from the mantelpiece. Loki stepped forward, reaching a hand out to stop Thor somehow, as if he had any right as either Loki or as some stranger mortal to even touch Thor. Thor stopped Loki—he put a hand on Loki’s shoulder, but his hand was large and it almost brushed the back of Loki’s neck, and before Loki could fully feel the sting of nostalgia and need, Thor pulled away, and left the cabin to silence.


End file.
